THE 
OFKENNETH-GALT 

WILL-N-HARBEN 


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OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

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[See  page  330 
"HOW      WOULD      SHE      RECEIVE      HIS      PROPOSAL?" 


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THE  REDEMPTION 
OF  KENNETH  GALT 


By 
Will     N.    Harben 

Author  of 

"Gilbert  Neal  "  "  Abner  Daniel" 
"  The  Georgians  "  «'  Ann  Boyd  "  etc. 


New  York  and  London 
Harper  &  Brothers  Publishers 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OP  KENNETH  GALT. 

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Copyright,  1909,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rifhls  rtttrvtd. 
Published  September,  1909. 


TO 
MAB  ELLE 


PART    I 


THE 
REDEMPTION    OF    KENNETH    GALT 

CHAPTER  I 

)UNG  Doctor  Bearing  sat  in  the  little 
church  at  an  open  window  through  which 
he  had  a  partial  view  of  that  portion  of 
'  old  Stafford  which  stretched  out  desulto 
rily  toward  the  east.  Immediately  in 
t  was  a  common  fairly  well  covered 
with  grass  and  weeds,  except  at  the  pawed  and  beaten 
spot  where  the  public  hitched  its  riding-horses,  and  be 
yond  stood  rows  of  old-fashioned  residences  of  brick  and 
stone,  interspersed  with  a  few  modern  frame  cottages 
which,  in  gaudy  paint,  thrust  themselves  nearer  the 
street  than  their  more  stately  neighbors. 

It  was  a  Sunday  morning,  and  the  smile  of  a  balmy 
spring  day  lay  over  every  visible  object,  filling  the  am 
bient  air  with  a  translucent  message  that  no  human  mind 
could  interpret.  It  was  as  though  an  infinite  God  were 
speaking  to  eyes  and  ears  too  coarsely  fashioned  to  fully 
see  and  hear. 

The  whole  was  conducive  to  the  doctor's  feeling  of 
restfulness  and  content  and  good- will  to  every  human 
being.  He  liked  the  young  minister  who  was  seated  in 
the  high-backed  rosewood  chair  behind  the  white  pulpit, 
holding  a  massive  Bible  on  his  slender  knees,  a  look  of 
consecrecation  to  a  sacred  cause  in  his  brown  eyes. 
There  was  an  assuring  augury  that  spoke  well  for  the 

3 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

youth  of  the  town  in  the  spectacle  of  the  choir — the 
young  men  in  their  best  clothes,  and  the  young  women  in 
their  flower-like  dresses  and  plumed  and  ribboned  hats. 

His  gaze  was  drawn  perforce  to  the  face  of  the  young 
organist,  who  sat  staring  listlessly  over  the  top  of  her 
hymn-book.  She  had  a  face  and  form  of  rare  beauty 
and  grace.  Her  features  were  most  regular;  her  skin 
clear;  her  eyes  were  large,  long-lashed,  dreamy,  and  of 
the  color  of  violets.  Her  hair  was  a  living  mass  of 
silken  bronze. 

"She  looks  tired  and  worried,"  was  Bearing's  half- 
professional  comment.  "  Perhaps  her  mother  is  worse, 
and  she  sat  up  last  night.  Poor  Dora !  she  has  certainly 
had  a  lot  to  contend  with  since  her  father  died.  I'll 
wait  for  her  after  church  and  ask  about  her  mother." 

The  service  over,  he  made  his  way  through  the  throng 
down  the  aisle  toward  the  door.  He  was  quite  popular, 
and  there  was  many  a  hand  to  shake  and  many  a  warm 
greeting  to  respond  to,  but  he  finally  succeeded  in  reach 
ing  a  point  in  the  shaded  church-yard  which  Dora  Barry 
would  pass  on  her  way  home,  and  there  he  waited. 

For  some  unaccountable  reason  she  was  almost  the 
last  to  leave  the  church,  and  the  congregation  had  well- 
nigh  dispersed  when  he  saw  her  coming.  He  noticed 
that  she  kept  her  glance  on  the  ground,  and  that  her 
step  was  slow  and  languid;  he  was  all  but  sure,  too, 
that  he  heard  her  sigh,  and  he  saw  her  firm  round  breast 
heave  tremulously  as  she  neared  him. 

"Good -morning,  Dora,"  he  said,  cheerily;  and  she 
started  as,  for  the  first  time,  she  noticed  his  presence. 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed,  a  flush  forcing  itself  into  the 
pallor  of  her  really  exquisite  face.  "I  thought — that 
is,  I  didn't  expect  to — to  see  you  here,  and,  and — 

"  I  have  been  watching  you  this  morning  instead  of 
the  preacher,"  he  said,  with  a  boyish  laugh,  "and  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  I'll  have  to  take  you  in  hand.  You 

4 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

are  burning  the  candle  at  both  ends,  and  there  is  a 
fire-cracker  in  the  middle.  What  is  the  use  of  being 
your  family  doctor  if  I  let  you  get  down  sick,  when  I  can 
prevent  it  by  raking  you  over  the  coals  ?  How  is  your 
mother  ?  You  had  to  be  up  last  night — I  can  see  it  by 
the  streaks  under  your  eyes." 

"No,  I  wasn't  up,"  the  girl  answered.  The  color  had 
receded  from  her  cheeks,  and  the  abstracted  expression 
which  he  had  noticed  in  the  church  began  to  repossess 
her  wondrous  eyes.  "She  is  not  quite  well  yet,  but  she 
did  not  call  me  at  all  through  the  night.  Your  last 
prescription  did  her  good;  it  soothed  her  pain,  and  she 
rested  better." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  walk  home  with  you  and  stop 
in  and  see  her,  to  make  sure,"  he  answered,  still  lightly. 
"  If  you  don't  look  out  you  will  be  down  yourself.  Two 
sick  persons  in  a  family  of  two  wouldn't  be  any  fun." 

She  made  no  response;  her  eyes  had  a  far-off  look  in 
their  shadowy  depths,  and  as  he  walked  along  beside 
her  he  eyed  her  profile  curiously. 

"Well,  I  declare,  Dora,"  he  said,  half  jestingly,  "you 
don't  seem  overjoyed  to  have  a  fellow's  company.  Of 
course,  I'm  not  a  ladies'  man,  and — " 

"Forgive  me,  Wynn."  She  looked  up  anxiously,  and 
her  lip  trembled  as  she  suppressed  another  sigh.  "It 
wasn't  that  I  didn't  want  you  to  come.  You  know  bet 
ter  than  to  accuse  me  of  such  a  thing.  I  have  always 
considered  you  the  best,  kindest,  and  truest  friend  I 
have." 

"I  was  only  joking,"  he  responded,  touched  by  the 
undoubted  sincerity  of  her  tone  and  manner;  "but, 
really,  I  don't  like  to  see  my  little  neighbor  looking  so 
glum,  and  I  am  going  to  stop  in  and  see  how  your  mother 
is.  If  she  needs  a  trained  nurse  I'll  get  one,  or  come 
over  and  look  after  her  myself." 

They  had  reached  the  cottage  where  Dora  lived.  It 

5 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

was  small,  and  stood  in  a  diminutive  but  rather  pretty 
flower-garden  on  a  short,  little  used  street  immediately 
behind  Dealing's  home.  And  when  he  had  opened  the 
sagging  gate  in  the  white  paling  fence,  she  preceded  him 
into  the  low,  vine -grown  porch,  and  narrow,  box -like 
hallway,  from  which  she  led  him  into  the  parlor,  the 
room  opposite  to  the  chamber  of  the  sick  woman. 

"Sit  down,  won't  you?"  Dora  said,  in  a  weary  tone, 
as  she  began  to  unfasten  her  hat.  "I'll  tell  her  you 
are  here." 

He  took  a  seat  in  the  bowed  window  of  the  plainly 
furnished  room,  and  she  brought  a  palm-leaf  fan  to  him. 
"I'm  sure  my  mother  won't  keep  you  waiting  long." 
And  with  the  look  of  abstraction  deepening  on  her  mobile 
face,  she  turned  away. 

A  neat  matting  made  of  green  and  brown  straw  cov 
ered  the  floor,  on  which  were  placed  rugs  made  of  scraps 
of  silk  of  various  colors  artistically  blended.  A  carved 
rosewood  table  with  a  white  marble  top  stood  in  the  cen 
tre  of  the  room,  and  on  it  rested  a  plush-covered  photo 
graph-album,  a  glass  lamp  with  a  fluted  and  knotched 
paper  shade  on  a  frame  of  wire,  and  a  vase  of  freshly  cut 
flowers.  Between  the  two  front  windows,  which,  like  their 
fellows,  were  draped  in  white  lace  curtains  of  the  cheapest 
quality,  stood  Dora's  piano — a  small,  square  instrument 
with  sloping  octagonal  legs  and  lyre-shaped  pedal-support. 
Against  the  wall  near  by  leaned  a  time-wTorn  easel,  on  which 
lay  some  torn  and  ragged  sketches,  a  besmeared  palette, 
and  a  handful  of  stubby,  paint-filled  brushes.  The  ceiling 
overhead  was  made  of  planks  and  painted  light  blue; 
the  walls  were  plastered  and  whitewashed  and  orna 
mented  by  some  really  good  family  portraits  in  oil 
which  had  been  done  by  Dora's  deceased  father,  who 
had  been  the  town's  only  artist.  A  Seth  Thomas  clock 
presided  over  a  crude  mantelpiece  which  was  bare  of 
any  other  ornament.  The  deep  chimney  was  filled  with 

6 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

pine-tops  and  cones,  the  uneven  bricks  of  the  hearth 
were  whitewashed. 

Bearing  heard  the  girl's  returning  step  in  the  hallway, 
and  then  she  looked  in  on  him. 

"She  is  sitting  up,"  Dora  announced.  "She  wants 
you  to  come  to  her." 

As  he  entered  the  room  across  the  hall  Dora  turned 
toward  the  kitchen  in  the  rear,  and  he  found  himself 
facing  her  mother,  a  thin,  gaunt  woman  about  fifty 
years  of  age,  who  sat  in  a  low  rocking-chair  near  her 
bed,  the  latter  orderly  arranged  under  a  spotlessly  white 
coverlet  and  great  snowy  pillows. 

"This  is  not  a  professional  visit,  Mrs.  Barry."  He 
smiled  as  he  bent  to  take  her  thin,  nervous  hand,  the 
fingers  of  which  were  aimlessly  picking  at  the  fringe  on 
the  arm  of  the  chair.  "  Dora  was  headed  for  home,  and 
so  was  I.  The  truth  is,  I  am  not  half  so  much  worried 
about  you  as  I  am  about  her.  Your  color  is  coming 
back  fast  enough,  and  you  have  no  fever.  You  are  all 
right,  but  she  looks  upset  and  nervous.  It  may  be  due 
to  her  highly  artistic  temperament,  which  is  a  thing 
medicine  can't  easily  reach.  Do  you  know  if  her  ap 
petite  is  good?" 

"Really  I  haven't  noticed  about  that  particularly," 
the  woman  answered,  in  a  plaintive  tone.  "  You  see, 
since  I  got  down  I  haven't  been  about  the  dining-room 
at  all.  She  has  waited  on  me  instead  of  me  on  her." 

"Well,  you'll  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  so,"  Dearing  said, 
his  brows  drawn  thoughtfully,  "and  then  you  can  take 
charge  of  her.  She  declares,  though,  that  her  health  is 
tip-top." 

The  old  patient  folded  her  thin,  blue- veined  hands 
tightly  for  a  moment,  and  twisted  them  spasmodically 
together;  then  suddenly  she  fixed  her  sharp,  gray  eyes 
anxiously  on  the  young  man's  face,  and  he  saw  that  she 
was  deeply  moved,  for  her  lower  lip  was  twitching. 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  I  have  always  felt  that  you  are  the  one  young  man 
whom  I  could  trust — absolutely  trust,"  she  said,  faltering- 
ly.  "  Physicians  are  supposed  to  keep  certain  matters  to 
themselves,  anyway,  but  even  aside  from  that,  Wynn, 
it  is  hard  to  keep  from  speaking  to  you  in  a  familiar 
way,  having  seen  you  grow  up  from  babyhood  right 
under  my  eyes,  so  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  if — " 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  have  you  quit  calling  me  that  for 
the  world!"  Bearing  flushed  deeply  and  laughed.  "I 
haven't  grown  a  full  beard  yet  to  make  me  look  older 
and  wiser  than  I  am,  as  many  young  sawbones  do.  I 
hope  I'll  always  be  simply  Wynn  Dealing  to  you,  Mrs. 
Barry." 

She  looked  as  admiringly  and  as  proudly  as  a  mother 
might  at  the  strong,  smooth-shaved  face,  with  its  merry 
eyes  of  brown,  firm  chin  and  mouth,  and  shock  of  thick, 
dark  hair,  and  at  the  tall,  muscular  frame  and  limbs  in 
the  neatly  cut  suit  of  brown. 

"Yes,  I  can  trust  you,"  she  muttered,  her  voice  grow 
ing  husky,  "and  it  seems  to  me  if  I  don't  confide  in 
some  one,  I  may  as  well  give  up." 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter,  Mrs.  Barry?"  Dearing 
inquired,  now  quite  grave. 

"Oh,  it  is  about  Dora!"  The  old  woman  sighed. 
"  Wynn,  I  may  as  well  confess  it.  My  sickness  is  partly 
due  to  worry  over  her.  It  is  not  because  she  is  unwell 
either.  It  is  something  else.  I  am  afraid  she  has  some 
— some  secret  trouble.  You  must  not  show  that  you 
suspect  anything — that  would  never  do ;  but  all  is  not  as 
it  should  be  with  her.  Naturally  she  has  as  happy  a 
disposition  as  any  girl  I  ever  knew.  Her  art  pupils 
adore  her,  and  up  to  quite  recently  she  used  to  laugh 
and  joke  with  them  constantly;  but  she  has  altered — 
strangely  altered.  I  catch  her  sitting  by  herself  at 
times  with  the  saddest,  most  woebegone  expression  on 
her  face.  When  I  try  to  worm  it  out  of  her,  she  at- 

8 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

tempts  to  laugh  it  off;  but  she  can't  keep  up  the  pre 
tense,  and  it  is  not  long  before  she  begins  to  droop 
again.  Her  room  is  there,  you  see;  and  as  the  par 
tition  is  thin,  I  often  wake  up  in  the  dead  of  night 
and  hear  her  cautiously  tiptoeing  over  the  floor — first 
to  the  window  and  then  back  to  her  bed,  as  though  she 
were  unable  to  sleep." 

"That  is  bad,"  Bearing  said,  sympathetically,  as 
Mrs.  Barry  paused  and,  covering  her  wrinkled  face  with 
her  hands,  remained  silent  for  a  moment. 

"I  would  like  to  ask  you  something,"  the  old  woman 
continued,  hesitatingly — "something  of  a  personal  nature. 
I  have  no  earthly  right  to  do  such  a  thing,  but  I  thought, 
you  see,  that  it  might  help  me  decide  whether  I  am 
right  in  something  I  fear.  Is  it  true  that  —  that  your 
uncle  has  forbidden  Fred  Walton  to  visit  your  sister 
Margaret?" 

Bearing  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders  and  contracted 
his  heavy  brows.  "  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  he  has, 
Mrs.  Barry.  I  don't  like  to  speak  against  another 
young  man,  and  one  who  has  never  harmed  me  in  any 
way;  but  I  agree  with  my  uncle  that  Fred  is  not  exactly 
the  kind  of  man  I'd  like  to  have  Madge  make  an  inti 
mate  friend  of.  His  general  character  is  not  what  it 
ought  to  be,  and  he  seems  to  be  going  from  bad  to  worse. 
He  still  has  plenty  of  friends  and  even  sympathizers, 
who  think  Fred  would  reform  and  settle  down  to  busi 
ness  if  his  father  were  not  quite  so  hard  on  him.  Madge 
is  one  of  them.  She  has  a  sort  of  girlish  faith  in  the 
fellow,  and  the  slightest  word  against  him  makes  her 
mad." 

"Well,  it  is  about  Fred  Walton  that  I  want  to  speak 
to  you,"  Mrs.  Barry  resumed,  tremulously.  "He  has 
been  coming  to  see  Bora  a  good  deal  for  the  last  year. 
He  passes  by  the  gate  often  in  the  afternoon,  and  they 
take  long  walks  over  the  hills  to  the  river.  Sometimes 

9 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

he  accompanies  her  when  she  goes  to  sketch  in  the 
woods.  And  now  and  then  she  slips  out  after  dark, 
and  won't  say  where  she  has  been.  You  see,  I  am  speak 
ing  very  frankly.  I  have  to,  Wynn,  for  I  am  in  great 
trouble — greater  than  I  ever  thought  could  come  to  me 
at  my  time  of  life.  My  child  is  an  orphan,  and  there  is 
no  one,  you  see,  to — to  protect  her.  It  is  hard  to  think 
that  any  man  here  at  home  could  be  so — so  dishonorable, 
but  they  all  say  he  is  reckless,  and — well,  if  I  must  say 
it — I  am  afraid  she  cares  a  great  deal  about  him.  I  may 
be  very  wrong,  and  I  hope  I  am,  but  I  am  deeply 
troubled,  and  need  not  try  to  hide  it." 

"I  see  how  you  feel,"  Bearing  said,  his  face  hardening 
as  he  bit  his  lip,  and  a  fixed  stare  came  into  his  eyes, 
"but  I  am  sure  you  have  nothing  very  —  very  serious 
to  fear.  Dora  may  think  she  cares  for  him.  He  seems 
to  have  a  wonderful  way  with  women,  young  and  old. 
They  all  stand  by  him  and  make  excuses  for  his  dare 
devil  ways." 

"Well,  I  do  hope  I  am  wrong,"  Mrs.  Barry  said, 
brightening  a  little.  "It  has  made  me  feel  better  to 
talk  to  you.  We'll  wait  and  see.  As  you  say,  it  may 
be  only  a  fancy  on  Dora's  part,  and  it  may  all  come 
out  right.  I  have  said  more  to  you,  Wynn,  than  I 
could  have  said  to  any  one  else  in  the  world.  That 
shows  how  much  confidence  I  place  in  you." 

"You  can  trust  me,  Mrs.  Barry,"  Dearing  said,  as  he 
looked  at  his  watch  and  rose  to  go.  "I  know  how  to 
keep  my  mouth  shut." 

As  he  was  leaving,  Dora  stood  motionless  at  the  win 
dow  of  her  room,  hidden  from  his  view  by  the  curtains. 
She  watched  him  as  he  passed  out  of  the  yard  and 
crossed  the  narrow  street  to  reach  the  rear  gate  to  his 
own  grounds. 

"If  he  knew  the  truth  he'd  despise  me!"  she  moaned, 

10 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

as  she  sank  into  a  chair  and  tensely  clasped  her  little 
hands  in  her  lap.  "How  can  I  bear  it?  I'm  so  miser 
able — so  very,  very  miserable!" 

She  rose,  and  went  to  her  bureau,  and  took  up  a  photo 
graph  of  Fred  Walton ;  as  she  gazed  at  it  her  eyes  filled 
and  her  lip  quivered. 

"Dear,  dear  Fred!"  she  said,  fervently,  "in  spite  of 
all  the  faults  they  say  you  have,  you  are  the  best  and 
truest  friend  a  poor  girl  ever  had.  If  I'd  only  listened 
to  your  advice  I'd  never  have  been  like  this.  Oh,  what 
will  you  think  when  you  hear  the  truth — the  awful,  awful 
truth!" 

She  threw  herself  on  her  bed,  and  with  her  face  cov 
ered  she  lay  trying  to  sob,  trying  to  shed  tears,  but  the 
founts  of  her  agony  were  dry. 


CHAPTER   II 

'R.  BEARING'S  house  was  an  old-fash 
ioned  structure  built  long  before  the 
Civil  War.  It  fronted  on  the  main 
residential  street  of  the  town,  and  was 
of  red  brick  partly  covered  with  cling 
ing  ivy.  It  had  a  colonial  veranda  with 
the  usual  tall,  fluted  columns,  which  were  painted  white 
and  rested  on  square  blocks  of  masonry.  It  had  been 
the  property  of  several  generations  of  Bearings  more  or 
less  distinguished  in  the  history  of  the  State,  and  since 
the  death  of  the  doctor's  father,  a  prosperous  merchant, 
slave-holder,  and  planter,  it  had  been  in  the  possession 
of  the  brother  and  sister,  who,  with  an  aged  maternal 
uncle,  General  Sylvester,  now  occupied  it. 

As  Bearing  entered  the  lower  gate  of  the  grounds  he 
saw  Kenneth  Gait,  his  next-door  neighbor,  crossing  the 
lawn  to  reach  his  own  house  just  beyond  a  low  hedge 
of  well-trimmed  boxwood.  And  hearing  the  clicking 
of  the  iron  gate-latch,  Gait  paused,  turned,  and  ad 
vanced  toward  his  friend.  He  was  a  handsome  man, 
tall,  dark,  well-built,  about  thirty-five  years  of  age,  and 
with  a  strong,  secretive  face — the  face  of  a  man  full  of 
nervous  force  and  the  never  -  satisfied  hunger  of  am 
bition. 

"You've  been  to  church  like  a  good  little  boy,"  he 
laughed,  as  he  paused  and  stood  cutting  at  the  grass 
with  his  cane. 

"Yes,  and  it  is  exactly  where  you  ought  to  have 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

been,"  Bearing  retorted,  with  a  smile.  "If  you  would 
only  listen  to  a  few  good  sermons  on  the  right  line  you'd 
burn  up  that  free-thought  library  of  yours,  and  quit 
thinking  you  know  more  than  your  good  old  God 
fearing  ancestors." 

"I  simply  couldn't  sit  and  listen  to  such  stuff  with  a 
straight  face,"  Gait  answered.  "Goodness  knows,  I've 
tried  it  often  enough.  It  really  seems  an  insult  to  a 
fellow's  intelligence.  I  can't  agree  with  you  that  any 
man  ought  to  try  to  think  as  his  forefathers  did.  You 
don't  in  your  profession,  why  should  a  man  do  it  in 
more  vital  matters?  You  don't  bleed  your  patients  as 
doctors  did  fifty  years  ago,  because  you  know  better. 
I  believe  in  evolution  of  mind  as  well  as  of  matter. 
We  are  constantly  advancing.  Your  old-time  preacher, 
with  all  his  good  intentions,  is  a  stumbling-block  to 
intelligence.  You  may  listen  to  a  man  who  tells  you 
your  house  is  burning  down  over  your  head  and  urges 
you  to  save  your  life,  but  if  you  don't  believe  him  you 
wouldn't  care  to  have  him  pull  you  out  by  the  heels 
on  a  cold  night  to  convince  you.  But  you  don't  hear 
what  I  am  saying!"  Gait  finished,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  I 
am  sowing  my  seed  on  stony  ground.  I've  been  in  to  see 
the  General.  I  have  some  important  letters  about  the 
railroad  that  he  and  I  are  going  to  get  built  one  of  these 
days.  As  a  rule,  he  is  more  than  eager  to  talk  about  it,  but 
he  was  certainly  out  of  sorts  just  now.  I  have  never 
seen  him  so  upset  before.  While  I  was  talking  to  him  he 
kept  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  and  not  hearing 
half  I  was  saying.  He  is  not  well,  is  he?" 

"No,  he  really  is  not  in  the  best  of  shape,"  Dearing 
answered,  with  a  thoughtful  shadow  on  his  face;  "but 
I  think  he  will  pull  through  all  right.  I  see  him  on  the 
porch  now.  I'll  walk  on,  and  talk  to  him." 

As  Dearing  drew  near  the  house  General  Sylvester, 
who  was  a  tall,  slightly  bent  old  man  with  long  gray 

13 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

beard  and  hair,  came  down  the  steps  and  walked  across 
the  grass  to  a  rustic  seat  under  a  tree.  He  was  about 
to  sit  down,  but  seeing  his  nephew  approaching  he  re 
mained  standing,  a  gaunt  hand  held  over  his  spectacled 
eyes  to  ward  off  the  sunlight. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  you,"  he  said,  in  a  piping, 
irritable  voice.  "  Kenneth  was  in  to  talk  business,  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  I'll  never  be  interested  in  such  things 
any  more.  What's  the  use?  I  didn't  want  the  money 
for  myself,  anyway.  I  saw  the  others  coming  back 
from  church  some  time  ago,  and  couldn't  imagine  what 
delayed  you.  I've  had  another  row  with  Madge,  and 
this  time  it  is  serious — very,  very  serious." 

"Oh,  that's  the  trouble!"  Dealing  cried,  and  he  at 
tempted  to  laugh.  "  Uncle  Tom,  in  your  old  age  you 
are  just  like  a  school-boy  with  his  first  sweetheart.  You 
are  actually  flirting  with  your  own  niece.  You  and  she 
bill  and  coo  like  doves,  and  then  get  cold  as  ice  or  as 
mad  as  Tucker.  What's  wrong  now?" 

"Well,  I  think  a  young  girl  like  she  is  ought  to  take 
the  sound  advice  of  a  man  as  old  and  experienced  as  I 
am,  and  she  won't  do  it.  That's  all — she  won't  do  it,  sir !" 

"Of  course  she  ought  to,"  Bearing  said,  still  inclined 
to  jest,  "but  you  are  wise  enough  to  know  that  no 
woman  ever  took  the  advice  of  a  man,  young  or  old. 
See  here,  uncle,  I'll  bet  you  haven't  had  your  medicine 
yet,  and  the  dinner-bell  will  ring  soon  and  you  will  have 
to  wait  fifteen  minutes  before  you  shall  taste  a  bite. 
You  and  I  '11  quarrel  if  you  don't  do  as  I  tell  you.  Madge 
won't  obey  you,  but  you've  got  to  get  down  on  your 
marrow-bones  and  follow  my  orders." 

"Oh,  I'll  take  the  blasted  stuff  in  time!"  the  General 
fumed.  "  I  don't  want  to  eat  now,  anyway.  I  tell  you, 
I'm  too  mad  to  eat." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  Fred  Walton  again,"  Bearing  said, 
resignedly. 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  Who  else  could  it  be?"  the  old  man  burst  out.  "  She 
tries  to  close  my  eyes  as  to  her  doings  with  him;  but  I 
got  it  straight  that  he  was  out  driving  with  her  last 
night  while  you  were  in  the  country." 

The  face  of  the  doctor  clouded  over.  "You  don't 
mean  to  say  that — 

"  I  mean  that  he  was  afraid  to  drive  up  to  the  door 
like  a  gentleman,  but  met  her  down- town  and  took  her 
from  there,  and  when  they  got  back,  long  after  dark,  he 
left  her  at  Lizzie  Sloan's,  to  keep  us  from  getting  on  to 
it.  You  know,  folks  will  talk  about  a  thing  like  that." 

Bearing's  eyes  flashed,  and  a  touch  of  whiteness  crept 
into  his  face,  but  he  said,  pacifically:  "Oh,  there  must 
be  some  mistake.  I  hardly  think  Madge  would — " 

"  But  there  isn't  any  mistake,  for  she  admitted  it  to 
me  not  ten  minutes  ago,  and  just  as  good  as  told  me  it 
was  none  of  my  business  besides.  Now,  listen  to  me, 
my  boy.  I  am  an  old  man,  but  I  am  still  in  the  pos 
session  of  my  faculties,  and  I  know  what  I  am  talking 
about.  I  was  in  the  bank  yesterday,  and  had  a  talk 
with  his  father.  He  told  me  frankly  that  he  intended 
to  cut  the  scamp  off  without  a  penny.  He  gave  the 
fellow  a  position  of  trust  in  the  bank,  but  instead  of 
behaving  himself  properly,  he  started  into  gambling, 
speculating  in  futures,  and  every  reckless  thing  he 
could  think  of.  He  turned  customers  away,  scared 
off  depositors,  who  don't  like  to  leave  their  money 
in  such  hands,  and  in  many  ways  injured  the  busi 
ness.  Old  Walton  was  so  mad  he  could  hardly  talk 
to  me,  and  when  I  told  him  right  out  how  I  felt  about 
my  niece  going  with  him,  he  said  he  didn't  blame  me; 
that  he  wouldn't  let  such  a  rascal  go  with  a  servant  of 
his,  much  less  the  acknowledged  belle  of  the  town,  and 
a  prospective  heiress.  Now,  Wynn,  this  is  what  I  have 
decided  to  do.  You  know  that  I  have  made  my  will, 
leaving  all  I  have  in  the  world  to  her." 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"And  it  is  blamed  bully  of  you,  Uncle  Tom,"  Bearing 
said,  laying  his  hand  on  the  old  man's  shoulder,  which 
he  could  feel  quivering  with  a  passion  not  good  for  even 
a  younger  man.  "  I  am  sure,  neither  of  us  is  worthy  of 
the  great  interest  you  have  always  taken  in  us." 

"  You  are,  my  boy.  I  am  proud  of  you.  You  are 
already  a  shining  light  in  your  profession,  and  will  make 
all  the  money  you'll  ever  need.  But  I  always  have 
worried  about  Madge.  I  want  to  provide  well  for  her, 
and  I  haven't  many  years  to  live.  Sometimes  I  think 
I  may  snuff  out  like  a  candle  without  a  moment's  notice, 
so  I  don't  intend  to  leave  my  affairs  in  such  a  shape  that 
Fred  Walton  will  gloat  over  my  demise  and  throw 
away  my  savings.  No,  sir.  I  tell  you  if  your  sister 
does  not  agree  to  give  that  scamp  up  inside  of  the  next 
twenty-four  hours,  I  will  set  my  effects  aside  for  another 
purpose." 

"  I'll  see  her  and  talk  to  her,  Uncle  Tom,"  Bearing 
promised,  gravely.  He  had  never  seen  the  General  so 
highly  wrought  up,  nor  heard  such  an  exasperated  ring 
in  his  voice.  "  Now,  you  go  take  your  medicine.  Madge 
will  be  sensible.  She  loves  you,  I  know  she  does." 

"Well,  remember  what  I've  said,"  the  old  soldier 
threw  back  as  he  turned  away. 

Bearing  waited  till  he  had  disappeared  through  the  side 
entrance  of  the  house,  and  then  he  went  up  the  front 
steps,  crossed  the  wide  veranda,  with  its  smooth,  rain- 
beaten  floor  of  ancient  heart  pine,  and  stood  in  the  great 
hall,  straw  hat  in  hand,  looking  about  him. 

"  I'll  see  her  at  once,"  he  thought.  "  She  must  come 
to  her  senses.  She  is  driving  uncle  to  his  grave  with 
worry  over  her  silly  conduct." 

"Oh,  Madge!"  he  called  out.  His  voice  rang  and 
echoed  in  the  great  opening  through  which  the  walnut 
stairs  and  polished  balustrade  ascended  to  the  corridor 
and  sleeping-rooms  above,  but  there  was  no  response. 

16 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Still  holding  his  hat,  with  which  he  fanned  his  heated 
face  in  an  absent-minded,  perturbed  sort  of  way,  Dear- 
ing  went  through  all  the  lower  rooms — the  parlor  and 
library  and  adjoining  study,  and  even  the  dining-room 
and  kitchen.  The  colored  cook,  old  Aunt  Diana,  a 
former  slave  of  the  family,  in  white  apron  and  turbaned 
head,  informed  him  that  his  sister  was  in  her  room. 

"  I  know  she  is,  Marse  Wynn,  'case  she  sent  Lindy 
down  fer  some  fresh  col'  water  not  mo'n  ten  minutes 
ago." 

Back  to  the  front  hall  Dealing  went,  and  thence  up 
the  stairs  to  his  sister's  room,  adjoining  his  own.  The 
door  was  ajar,  but  he  stood  on  the  threshold  and  rapped 
softly. 

"Come!"  It  was  a  sweet  young  voice,  and  belonged 
to  a  pretty  girl  seventeen  or  eighteen  years  of  age,  who, 
as  Dearing  entered  the  room,  sat  at  a  quaint  mahogany 
writing-desk  between  two  lace  -  curtained  windows 
through  which  a  gentle  breeze  was  blowing.  She  wore 
a  becoming  wrapper,  and  her  small  feet  were  shod  in 
dainty  embroidered  slippers.  Her  abundant  hair  was 
quite  dark,  and  her  eyes  very  blue.  She  had  been 
writing,  for  on  the  page  of  tinted  note-paper  before 
her  he  saw  an  unfinished  sentence  in  the  round,  school 
girl  hand. 

"  I  don't  want  to  disturb  you,  Madge,"  Dearing  be 
gan,  "but  you  will  have  to  stop  anyway  soon,  and  get 
ready  for  dinner." 

"I  am  not  going  down,"  she  told  him,  her  glance  fall 
ing  to  the  rug  at  her  feet.  "I  had  breakfast  late,  and 
I  am  not  a  bit  hungry." 

"But  that  wouldn't  be  treating  Uncle  Tom  quite 
right,  you  know,"  Dearing  gently  protested,  as  he  took 
a  seat  on  the  broad  window-sill,  swung  his  hat  between 
his  knees,  and  eyed  her  significantly.  "You  know 
how  childish  he  is  getting,  Madge.  It  really  upsets  him 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

not  to  have  you  at  the  table.  He  is  old-fashioned,  and 
was  something  of  a  beau  when  he  was  a  young  man. 
Making  a  fine  lady  of  you  and  paying  court  to  you 
seems  to  be  about  all  the  pleasure  he  gets  in  life.  I  know 
it  must  be  tiresome,  but  there  are  many  things  we — 

"He  is  childish!"  Margaret  exclaimed,  her  eyes  flash 
ing  angrily,  "but  I  bore  with  it  because  I  loved  him, 
and  because  mother  would  have  approved  it;  but  he 
is  getting  worse  and  worse.  He  wants  me  at  his 
beck  and  call  every  minute  in  the  day,  and  even  if  I 
go  out  to  see  one  of  my  girl  friends  he  either  comes  or 
sends  one  of  the  servants  to  see  if  anything  has  hap 
pened.  Then  he — he — oh,  there  are  a  lot  of  things  a 
girl  can't  put  up  with!" 

"You  mean  his  opposition  to  the  visits  of  a  certain 
friend  of  yours?"  Bearing  said,  in  a  forced  tone  of  in 
difference,  as  he  glanced  out  at  the  window.  Although 
his  eyes  were  still  ostentatiously  averted,  he  saw  her 
cautiously  draw  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  over  the  lines 
she  had  written. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "that  is  one  thing.  Fred  Walton  is 
a  friend  of  mine,  and  for  all  I  know  his  feelings  may  be 
hurt  by  what  uncle  has  said  and  done.  I  know  Fred 
is  wild  and  reckless,  but  he  has  a  good  side  to  him — 
a  side  everybody  can't  see  who  doesn't  know  him  in 
timately." 

Young  as  he  was,  Wynn  Bearing  was  wise  in  the  ways 
of  the  world,  and  he  well  knew  that  a  temperament  and 
will  like  his  sister's  would  never  be  coerced.  He  de 
cided  to  profit  by  the  error  in  the  method  of  his  blus 
tering  uncle. 

"You  have  never  heard  me  abuse  Fred,"  he  said, 
gently.  "Many  young  men  who  have  wealthy  parents 
are  inclined  to  'sow  wild  oats,'  as  the  old  folks  say; 
but  really,  Madge" — and  he  was  smiling  now — "for 
an  honest,  inoffensive  cereal,  the  'wild  oat'  has  to  bear 

18 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

the  burden  of  many  a  tough  young  weed.  Charity  is 
said  to  cover  a  multitude  of  sins,  but  for  genuine  self- 
sacrifice  give  me  the  old-fashioned,  long-bearded  wild 
oat,  in  all  its  verdant  and  succulent — 

"Brother,  I'm  not  in  a  mood  for  silliness!"  the  girl 
interrupted  him,  quickly,  and  with  an  impatient  flush. 

"I'm  not  either,  Madge."  He  took  one  of  his  knees 
between  his  hands,  and  drew  it  up  toward  him.  "The 
fact  is,  I  am  worried — worried  like  everything!  I  may 
not  show  it,  but  this  thing  has  taken  a  deep  hold  on  me. 
Something  has  got  to  be  done,  and  that  right  away. 
Young  folks  may  love  each  other,  or  think  they  love 
each  other,  and  if  it  does  no  harm  to  any  one  else,  why, 
all  well  and  good.  But  if  their  love  business  is  causing 
suffering — yes,  and  positive  bodily  injury  to  another — 
then  they  ought  to  stop  and  ponder." 

"You  mean  that  Uncle  Tom — 

"I  mean  this,  Madge,  and  now  I  am  talking  to  you 
as  a  physician  —  his  physician,  too.  The  old  man  is 
actually  so  near  the  end  of  his  natural  life  that  irrita 
tion  like  this  is  apt  to  undermine  what  little  constitu 
tion  he  has  left.  I've  known  old  men  to  worry  themselves 
into  softening  of  the  brain  over  smaller  things  than  this. 
You  may  not  think  it  would  make  much  difference ;  but 
remember  that  if  any  act  of  yours  and  Fred  Walton's 
were  to  cause  his  death,  even  indirectly,  you  could  never 
outlive  the  reproach  of  your  conscience.  Uncle  Tom  is 
in  a  dangerous  condition :  his  heart-action  is  bad,  and  so 
are  his  kidneys.  You  are  too  young  a  girl  to  take  such 
a  responsibility  as  that  on  your  shoulders;  besides, 
Madge,  I  must  say  that  Fred — it  is  my  duty  as  a  brother 
to  say — 

"You  are  going  to  abuse  him;  remember,  you  have 
not  done  it  so  far!"  Margaret  broke  in.  "You  won't 
gain  by  it,  brother.  The  whole  town  has  talked  of  noth 
ing  lately  but  him  and  his  faults,  and  I  appreciated 

19 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

your  silence,  and  so  does  he.  We  were  speaking  about  it 
only  yesterday,  and  he  praised  you  for  it.  He  said  you 
were  the  truest,  most  perfect  gentleman  he  had  ever 
known,  that  you  knew  human  nature  too  well  to  ex 
pect  young  men  to  be  absolutely  perfect,  and  that — " 

"I  wasn't  going  to  say  a  word  against  his  honor, 
Madge,"  Bearing  interrupted  her,  gently;  "but  I  am 
going  to  say  this:  if  I  were  in  his  place  right  now  I'd 
feel  that  I  could  not  conscientiously,  or  even  quite  hon 
orably,  continue  to  pay  attention  to  a  young  lady  situ 
ated — well,  situated  just  as  you  are." 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean?"  the  girl  asked,  her  lip 
quivering  stubbornly. 

"This,  sister,  and  nothing  else.  We  may  say  what 
we  please  about  Fred's  good  qualities,  his  sincerity, 
his — his  devotion  to  you;  his  plans,  whatever  they  are; 
but  a  very  disagreeable  fact  stands  out  like  a  black 
splotch  on  the  whole  business,  and  that  is  simply  this: 
Fred  really  has  failed  to  make  good  in  the  way  a 
man  ought  to  make  good  who  aspires  to  the  hand  of 
a  girl  like  yourself.  His  father  gave  him  a  splendid 
chance  in  the  bank,  but  Fred's  best  friends  admit  that 
he  hasn't  profited  by  it.  Instead  of  attending  to  busi 
ness  and  helping  his  old  daddy — who,  harsh  old  skin 
flint  though  he  is  as  to  money  matters,  is  a  safe  man 
in  any  community — instead  of  doing  what  was  expected 
of  him,  Fred — well,  he  has  turned  his  father  against  him, 
that's  all.  The  old  man  swears  he  is  going  to  cut  him 
off  without  a  penny,  and  everybody  in  town  knows  he 
means  it;  Fred  doesn't  dispute  it  himself.  So,  taking 
that  along  with  the  other  thing,  I  honestly  can't  see  how 
he  can  talk  of  love  and  marriage  to  a  girl  like  you 
are." 

"What  other  thing  do  you  mean?"  Margaret  de 
manded,  pale  with  suppressed  emotion. 

"I  mean  the  fact  that  his  marriage  to  you  would 

20 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

cause  Uncle  Tom  to  disinherit  you  outright.  A  man 
might  sink  low  enough  to  want  to  marry  a  girl  after 
he  himself  has  been  disinherited  for  his  irregular  con 
duct,  but  no  creature  with  a  spark  of  manhood  in 
him  would  let  his  act  impoverish  the  woman  he  loves. 
I  have  said  nothing  against  him  so  far,  but  when  he 
knows  what  uncle  has  determined  to  do — when  he  is 
told  that  if  he  persists — well" — Bearing's  eyes  were 
burning  now  with  the  fire  of  genuine  anger — "he'll 
have  me  to  reckon  with,  that's  all — me,  Madge!" 

Margaret  stared  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then,  with 
a  piteous  little  sob,  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"You  are  going  to  tell  him!"  she  said,  huskily. 

"Yes."  Bearing  stood  up  and  laid  his  hand  on  her 
head.  "  I'm  going  to  tell  him,  Madge,  but  it  will  be 
only  for  his  own  good.  In  any  case,  he  couldn't  honor 
ably  ask  you  to  marry  him  now,  and  the  delay — if  he 
is  willing  to  wait — won't  do  either  of  you  any  harm. 
You  are  both  young,  and  the  world  is  before  you.  You 
can't  realize  it  now,  Madge,  but  this  very  thing  may  be 
the  making  of  him.  If  he  loves  you  as  truly  as  he 
ought,  this  will  be  only  a  spur  toward  proving  his 
worthiness." 

"Brother,  must  you  really — ?  oh,  I  can't — can't — 
The  girl  stood  up,  her  cheeks  wet  with  tears,  and  clasped 
her   hands   round  his   neck   appealingly.     "  You  really 
must  not!     He  is  already  in  trouble.     Surely — surely— 

" There  is  no  other  way,  Madge,  but  I'll  not  be  rough; 
I  pity  the  poor  chap  too  much  for  that." 

"  When  do  you  intend  to — to  see  him  ?"  She  was  sob 
bing  again,  her  face  pressed  against  his  shoulder. 

"This  evening,  Madge,  if  I  can  find  him  at  home. 
There  is  no  other  way.  Uncle  and  I  are  the  only  pro 
tectors  you  have,  and  he  is  too  angry  and  easily  wrought 
up  to  be  trusted  with  the  matter.  I'd  better  manage 
it;  but  you  know  I'll  be  fair." 

21 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

The  girl  gazed  fixedly  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
in  a  storm  of  tears,  she  threw  herself  oh  her  bed  and 
hid  her  face  in  a  pillow.  Glancing  at  her  pityingly,  and 
with  moisture  in  his  own  eyes,  Bearing  turned  from  the 
room. 

"I  am  sorry  for  them  both,"  he  muttered.  "They 
are  having  hard  luck,  and  yet  Fred  Walton  isn't,  from 
any  point  of  view,  worthy  of  her ;  there  are  no  two  ways 
about  it.  He  has  got  himself  into  a  terrible  plight,  and 
he  has  no  right  to  involve  my  sister.  No,  and  he 
sha'n't!" 


CHAPTER   III 

»HE  greater  part  of  the  ensuing  after 
noon  was  spent  by  Dr.  Bearing  in  his 
musty  little  office  on  the  ground  floor  of 
a  building  in  the  central  square  of  the 
town  which  was  devoted  to  lawyers' 
quarters,  the  rooms  of  the  sheriff  of  the 
county,  and  the  council-chamber  where  the  mayor  held 
his  court.  He  received  a  few  patients,  made  some  ex 
aminations,  wrote  several  prescriptions,  and,  considering 
that  it  was  Sunday,  he  felt  that  he  was  fairly  well  occu 
pied.  His  mind,  however,  was  constantly  on  the  topic 
of  the  morning  and  the  disagreeable  task  confronting 
him.  Finally  he  turned  over  the  placard  on  the  door 
till  the  word  "  OUT"  was  exposed  to  view,  and  went  home 
to  supper.  Here,  however,  he  met  only  General  Sylves 
ter,  who,  a  dejected  picture  of  offended  loneliness,  sat 
on  the  veranda,  a  dry  cigar  between  his  lips. 

"Where  is  Madge?"  Bearing  asked,  half  standing, 
half  sitting  on  the  balustrade  in  front  of  the  old  gentle 
man,  and  assuming  a  casual  tone  which  was  far  from 
natural. 

"  She  hasn't  been  down  at  all  to-day,"  the  General 
answered,  pettishly.  "  I  wouldn't  send  for  her.  She 
knew  I  wouldn't  knuckle  like  that,  but  she  knows  I  al 
ways  expect  to  walk  with  her  Sunday  afternoons,  and 
she  stayed  pouting  in  her  room.  She  resents  what  has 
been  said  about  that  blackleg  gambler,  and  wants  to 
show  it  as  plainly  as  possible,  so  there  won't  be  any 
3  23 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

mistake  between  her  view  and  mine.  She  knows  I 
don't  intend  to  leave  any  property  to  her  if  she  keeps 
this  up,  but  she  doesn't  care  a  rap.  She's  dead  in  love 
with  the  scamp,  and,  bad  as  he  is,  she  glories  in  the  op 
portunity  to  show  her  contempt  for  me  and  all  that  per 
tains  to  me.  She  can't  toss  me  about  like  a  ball,  my 
boy!  This  thing  has  got  to  end  right  here  and  now,  or 
I'll  see  my  lawyer  to-morrow  and  put  something  on 
paper  that  may  never  be  wiped  out  while  I  am  alive." 

"Well,  give  her  till  to-morrow,  then,"  Bearing  said, 
with  strange,  suppressed  calmness.  "  Her  very  sullen- 
ness  now  may  be  a  sign  that  she  is  about  to  give  him 
up.  I've  talked  to  her,  and,  while  I  am  not  certain  what 
she'll  do,  I  have  an  idea  that  she  may  respect  your 
wishes  and  abide  by  your  judgment." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  the  old  man  said,  with  an  anxious 
look  into  the  face  of  his  nephew ;  "  that  is,  not  so  long 
as  the  rascal  holds  her  to  whatever  understanding  they 
may  have  between  them.  When  I  was  a  young  man"- 
Sylvester  clinched  his  fist  and  pounded  his  knee,  as  if 
to  emphasize  his  words — "  things  like  this  did  not  hang 
fire.  A  man  who  could  make  no  showing  as  to  his  being 
a  proper  suitor  for  a  girl  under  age  was  given  orders 
from  her  family  to  desist  in  his  harmful  attentions,  and 
if  he  refused  he  was  promptly  dealt  with — that's  all: 
dealt  with!" 

"Nowadays  it's  different,  Uncle  Tom,"  Bearing  said, 
with  the  tone  of  an  older  man.  "  Shooting  or  threaten 
ing  to  shoot  about  a  young  woman  is  sure  to  cast  a 
blight  on  her  reputation,  and  there  generally  is  some 
other  method  to — ' 

"You  learned  that  up  among  those  Yankees!''  the 
General  said,  alluding  to  the  period  his  nephew  had  spent 
in  a  New  York  medical  college.  "  But  I  am  miserable 
enough  as  it  is  without  wanting  you  to  stain  your  hands 
with  blood  and  have  us  all  brought  into  court  to  justify 

24 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

your  course.  He  is  a  coward,  I'm  sure;  no  man  has 
any  pride  or  backbone  who  will  cling  on  to  a  respectable 
family,  under  the  pretext  of  being  in  love,  when  his  own 
people  have  cut  him  off.  His  mother  belonged  to  a  good 
family,  but  he  hasn't  inherited  any  refinement  of  feeling 
from  that  side  of  the  house." 

"I  don't  think,  to  do  Fred  full  justice,"  Bearing 
gently  urged,  "that  he  quite  realizes  the  seriousness  of 
your  objections  to  him.  I  really  believe,  when  he  is 
told  of  the  step  you  are  about  to  take,  that  he  will  act 
sensibly.  He  has  a  good  side  to  him  when  he  is  thor 
oughly  himself,  and  I  am  going  to  look  him  up  after 
supper  and  lay  the  whole  thing  fairly  before  him." 

"  Does  Margaret  know  you — "  The  General's  voice 
failed  to  carry  further. 

"  Yes;  I've  told  her  what  I  intend  to  do,  and  I  think 
that  is  one  reason  she  has  remained  in  her  room.  She 
is  hard  hit,  Uncle  Tom.  Girls  never  can  understand 
things  of  this  sort.  Their  sympathies  always  go  with 
the  unfortunate,  and  Madge  knows  Fred  is  down,  and 
that  most  people  are  against  him." 

"Well,  I  hope  you  will  accomplish  something,"  Gen 
eral  Sylvester  said,  hopefully.  "  You  can  straighten  it 
out  if  any  one  can.  I  can  trust  you,  Wynn,  and  I  am 
proud  of  you — proud  of  you  in  every  way.  I  never 
regret  the  loss  of  the  old  order  of  things  when  I  think  of 
what  you  are  and  what  you  are  bound  to  become  as 
a  leader  of  young  men  of  your  period." 

"  We  are  certainly  sharp  enough  to  pull  the  wool  over 
kind  old  eyes  like  yours,  Uncle  Tom."  Bearing  laughed 
as  he  leaned  forward  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  old  man's 
shoulder.  "  In  your  day  young  blades  boasted  of  what 
they  did  under  cover  of  the  night,  but  we  thank  the 
darkness  for  its  shelter  and  don't  talk  of  our  acts.  Why, 
you  old-timers  didn't  know  the  first  principles  of  devil 
ment!  If  it  were  not  giving  away  professional  secrets, 

25 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

I'd  tell  you  things  that  would  make  your  hair  stand  on 
end.  You've  heard  me  say  I  believe  in  the  good  old-time, 
psalm-singing,  God-fearing  religion — well,  I  do.  The 
longer  I  live  the  more  I  think  we  need  it.  Look  what 
modern  thought  has  done  for  Kenneth  Gait.  He  has 
read  so  much  on  science  and  philosophy  that  he  has 
reduced  us  all — good,  bad,  and  indifferent — to  mere  cos 
mic  dust.  According  «to  him,  we  are  simply  mud  babies 
energized  by  planetary  force,  and  living  on  the  pap  of 
graft.  Ask  him  to  account  for  good  spiritual  impulses, 
and  he  will — if  he  admits  there  are  any — show  you  con 
clusively  that  good  conduct  is  the  mere  evolutionary 
result  of  communal  self-interest;  men  came  to  believe 
murder  was  wrong  only  because  they  didn't  want  their 
own  throats  cut 

"  I  have  always  wondered  what  Kenneth  does  believe," 
Sylvester  said,  with  his  first  smile.  "  He  certainly  is 
an  interesting  man;  and  he's  rich,  and  growing  more 
so." 

"  Yes;  he  was  well  provided  for  at  the  start,"  respond 
ed  Bearing,  "and  he  has  invested  wisely." 

"I  have  seen  him  talking  to  Margaret  several  times 
of  late,"  Sylvester  remarked.  "That  is  one  thing  that 
irritates  me.  I  don't  care  a  red  cent  about  his  cranky 
religious  views;  they  will  take  care  of  themselves,  for 
he  is  a  straight,  safe,  and  honorable  man;  and  if  this 
harum-scarum  Fred  Walton  had  not  been  taking  up  so 
much  of  her  time,  why — " 

"You  old  match-maker!"  Bearing  laughed.  "I'm 
going  to  stir  up  Aunt  Diana  and  get  something  to  eat. 
I  am  as  hungry  as  a  bear." 

While  he  and  his  uncle  sat  together  at  the  long  table 
in  the  big  dining-room,  Bearing  asked  the  cook  if  she 
had  notified  his  sister  that  supper  was  served. 

"Yesser,  Marse  Wynn,"  the  woman  answered  over 
the  coffee-tray  she  was  putting  down,  "I  sent  Lindy  up 

26 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

dar  to  her  room,  and  she  say  young  miss  didn't  want  er 
bite.  I  reckon  she  sho'  is  sick.  She  haint  tetch  er 
mouthful  since  'er  breakfast." 

"Well,  let  her  alone,"  Dearing  said,  as  his  eyes  met 
the  wavering  glance  of  his  uncle  across  the  table.  "She 
will  be  all  right  in  the  morning." 

The  gloomy  meal  over,  the  General  strode  back  to 
the  veranda,  and  Wynn  went  up  to  his  room.  He  did 
not  light  the  gas,  as  he  intended  doing,  for  it  occurred 
to  him  that  there  was  really  no  need  for  it,  and  he  sat 
down  in  the  darkness.  He  could  see  one  of  the  win 
dows  of  Margaret's  room  in  the  ell  of  the  building,  across 
the  open  court.  A  dim  light  was  burning  there,  and 
the  curtains  were  drawn. 

"Poor  child!"  he  muttered;  "that  fellow  has  hit  her 
hard.  Women  have  a  wonderful  amount  of  sympathy 
for  him.  It  may  be  that  Mrs.  Barry  is  correct  in  her 
fears,  and  that  Dora  may  be  in  love  with  him,  too. 
Beautiful,  trusting  Dora — even  she  is  suffering  on  his  ac 
count.  Yes,  I  must  see  him.  There  is  no  other  way." 

Dearing  stood  up  and  went  to  his  bureau  to  get  a 
fresh  handkerchief,  and  while  his  hand  was  fumbling 
collars,  cuffs,  and  neckties,  it  touched  the  cool,  smooth 
handle  of  a  revolver.  He  picked  it  up  and  held  it  for 
a  moment  reflectively,  and  then  laid  it  down. 

"No,  I'll  not  go  to  see  him  even  with  the  thought  that 
I  may  have  to  use  force,"  he  said.  "My  mission  in  life 
is  to  cure  men,  not  to  spill  their  blood.  They  say  he 
sometimes  goes  armed,  and  if  we  met  on  that  sort  of 
level  there  might  be  trouble." 

He  closed  the  drawer,  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at 
the  light  in  the  window  of  Margaret's  room,  and  then, 
shrugging  his  broad  shoulders,  he  turned  away.  He  met 
no  one  on  the  stairs,  but  as  he  passed  out  at  the  front 
door  he  saw  the  flare  of  his  uncle's  cigar  and  the  wrinkled, 
brooding  face  and  gray  head  and  beard  at  the  end  of 

27 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

the  veranda.  Going  down  the  wide  brick  walk,  which 
was  edged  by  rows  of  well-trimmed  boxwood,  he  de 
scried,  near  the  gate,  a  willowy  figure  in  white.  It  was 
Margaret.  She  looked  up  as  he  approached,  and  in  the 
piteous  lines  of  her  face  he  read  her  final  desperate 
appeal. 

"I  thought  you  were  in  your  room,"  he  said,  in  an 
effort  at  gentle  deception.  "Madge,  old  girl,  I'll  have 
to  take  you  in  hand."  He  passed  his  ringers  playfully 
under  her  cold  chin.  "You  are  on  a  direct  road  to 
a  thirty-day  course  of  that  very  tonic  you  despised  so 
much  last -spring.  No  dinner  to-day  and  no  supper 
to-night.  I  don't  get  any  fee  for  doctoring  you,  but 
I'm  going  to  keep  you  in  good  shape  as  an  advertise 
ment,  if  for  nothing  else.  I  don't  intend  to  have  my 
patients  throwing  it  in  my  face  that  they  won't  believe 
in  me  until  I  cure  my  own  family." 

She  did  not  return  his  smile,  and  drew  back  from  his 
caress  as  if  she  half  resented  it. 

"Are  you  really  going  to  see  Fred?"  she  asked,  falter- 
ingly,  her  eyes  fixed  coldly,  half  fearfully,  on  his  through 
the  dim,  vague  starlight. 

"Yes,  Madge,"  he  answered,  simply.  "I've  thought 
it  over  deliberately  and  calmly,  with  no  feeling  of  ill- 
will  toward  him,  and  I  can't  see  my  duty  in  any  other 
way." 

"To-night?"  She  breathed  hard,  her  hand  on  her 
breast. 

"Right  away,  sister;  that  is,  if  he  is  in  town." 

She  moved  a  little  nearer  to  him.  He  saw  the  hand 
which  started  toward  his  arm  tremble,  as  it  diverted  its 
course  to  one  of  the  palings  of  the  fence,  which  it  clutched 
in  visible  desperation. 

"Do  you  realize,"  she  asked,  "that  to — to  tell  him 
what  Uncle  Tom  intends  to  do  in  case  he  and  I  don't 
give  each  other  up  may  insult  him?  He  is  not  a  man 

28 


THE  REDEMPTION  "OF  KENNETH  GALT 

to  care  about  a  girl's  fortune;  he  hasn't  shown  that  he 
wants  his  father's  money.  He  knows  that  I  don't  let 
such  things  weigh  with  me.  What  you  are  now  starting 
out  to  do  may  be  the  immediate  cause  of — of  our  both 
defying  you!" 

"Oh,  I  see,"  Bearing  said.  "Well,  in  that  case  I  shall 
have  done  all  in  my  power  to  protect  your  interests. 
I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  though,  Madge,  little  girl:  the 
matter  looks  black  enough  as  it  stands;  but,  really,  if  I 
felt  that  you  were  going  absolutely  penniless  to  a  man 
who  has  shown  himself  as  reckless  of  his  own  interests 
as  Fred  Walton  has,  I'd  be  blue  in  earnest,  and — and  I 
don't  know  that  I'd  be  quite  able  to  restrain  my  temper 
if  such  a  reckless  spendthrift  were  to  thrust  himself  be 
tween  you  and  your  natural  rights,  boldly  robbing  you, 
blind  as  you  now  are,  of  what  you  ought  to  have,  and 
which  later  in  life  you  will  sadly  need.  I  am  not  a  fight 
ing  man,  but — well,  he'd  better  not  interfere  with  your 
material  interests,  that's  all." 

She  shrank  back  before  the  force  and  suppressed  fury 
in  his  face  and  voice,  and  now,  her  last  hope  gone,  she 
simply  stared,  speechless.  He  had  put  his  hand  upon 
the  iron  latch  of  the  gate  when  she  caught  his  arm  and 
clung  to  it  convulsively. 

"Oh,  brother,  you  don't  know  Fred  as  I  do!"  she 
wailed.  "He  has  some  faults,  I'll  admit;  but  he  is 
true  and  noble  at  heart.  You  see,  I've  heard  him  talk 
in  a  confidential  way  and  you  haven't.  The  last  time  I 
met  him  he  almost  cried  in  telling  me  of  his  troubles. 
He  does  try  very  hard  to  please  his  father.  You  see,  I 
am  convinced  that  he  has  just  reached  a  sort  of  turning- 
point,  and  I  am  afraid  this  very  thing  may  make  him 
more  desperate." 

"If  he  is  sincere,"  Wynn  retorted,  "and  is  any  sort 
of  man,  he  will  be  glad  of  being  warned  against  impov 
erishing  the  girl  he  professes  to  love.  You  leave  it  all 

29 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

to  me,  sister.  I  am  not  going  to  be  harsh  with  him.  I 
don't  really  dislike  him,  and  he  has  nothing  against  me." 

From  the  expression  of  utter  despair  in  her  eyes  he  knew 
that  she  intended  to  resist  no  longer.  She  lowered  her 
head  to  the  top  of  the  fence,  and  without  looking  at  him, 
she  asked,  in  a  smothered  voice:  "What  time  do  you 
think  you  will — will  be  back?" 

"I  can't  tell,  Madge.  I  may  not  find  him  at  once, 
you  know." 

"  I  shall  wait  up  for  you,"  she  gulped.  "  I  couldn't 
close  my  eyes  until  I  see  you  and  know  what  he  says. 
Oh,  brother,  I  am  afraid — " 

"Afraid  of  what?"  he  demanded,  quickly. 

"I  hardly  know  how  to  express  it."  She  looked  up, 
and  on  her  cheeks  lay  the  damp  traces  of  the  tears  she 
had  wiped  away  on  her  sleeve.  "  But  he  is  desperate. 
I  am  actually  afraid  he  may  try  to — to  do  himself  harm. 
It  looked,  the  other  evening,  as  if  he  were  constantly  on 
the  point  of  telling  me  something  about  some  crisis  or 
other  in  his  affairs  which  has  just  come  up.  He  would 
start  out  as  if  about  to  make  a  disclosure  of  some  hor 
rible  kind,  and  then  he  would  stop  and  say:  '  But  I  can't 
worry  you  by  telling  you  everything.  It  won't  help 
matters  to  talk  about  my  trouble.'" 

"  Poor  chap,"  Bearing  said.  "  I  will  not  be  hard  on 
him,  sister;  I  promise  you  that.  I  may  find  him  at 
church;  he  sometimes  goes  to  take  Dora  Barry." 

"  Yes;  they  are  good  friends,"  Margaret  said.  "  That 
is  one  thing  I  admire  in  him.  She  is  poor,  and  doesn't 
receive  much  attention.  Fred  takes  her  to  places  and 
goes  to  see  her  out  of  pure  kindness  of  heart." 

"Well,  I'm  off,"  Bearing  said,  as  he  turned  to  leave. 
"  Now  you  go  to  bed,  young  lady,  and  forget  about  this 
disagreeable  mess  for  to-night,  anyway.  It  may  be  all 
for  the  best." 


CHAPTER   IV 

EAVING  Madge  mute  and  motionless 
at  the  gate,  staring  through  the  starlight 
after  him,  Bearing  strode  down  the  street 
past  the  fine  old  home  of  Kenneth  Gait, 
which  was  set  well  back  in  spacious 
grounds  on  the  left.  Along  the  way 
were  old-fashioned  houses  in  bad  condition,  old  build 
ings  which  had  been  modernized,  and  which  stood  on 
well-kept  lawns,  and  others  which  had  no  touch  of  an 
tiquity.  After  a  few  minutes  he  reached  a  plain  two- 
story  frame  house  which  had  once  been  white,  but  now 
showed  little  trace  of  its  original  paint.  It  was  the 
home  of  Fred  Walton's  father,  Stafford's  well-to-do 
banker,  money-lender,  "  note  -  shaver,"  and  all-round 
speculator  in  stocks,  bonds,  and  real  estate. 

"  Fred  may  be  here,"  Bearing  reflected,  as  he  paused 
at  the  ramshackle  gate  and  viewed  the  forbidding  old 
house  as  it  loomed  up  among  the  trees,  fifty  yards  from 
where  he  stood;  "but  he'd  certainly  be  excusable  for 
seeking  a  more  cheerful  place  to  spend  an  evening,  con 
sidering  that  meddlesome  stepmother  of  his." 

The  parsimony  of  old  Simon  Walton  could  not  have 
been  better  illustrated  than  by  the  fact  that 'not  a  ray 
of  light  showed  itself  in  all  the  rooms  of  the  house.  It 
was  said  of  him  that,  fond  of  smoking  though  he  was, 
he  never  lighted  his  pipe  without  getting  a  match  and 
tobacco  from  some  one  else.  At  all  events,  he  was 
at  home.  And  as  he  went  up  the  uneven  brick  walk, 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Wynn  saw  him  seated  on  the  front  porch  without  his 
coat. 

He  was  tall,  lank,  and  raw-boned,  and  though  nearly 
seventy  years  of  age,  his  brown  hair  and  short,  scraggy 
whiskers  were  devoid  of  the  slightest  touch  of  gray.  He 
was  a  man  who,  though  outwardly  sound  of  body,  brain, 
and  limb,  was  not  without  certain  haunting  fears  of 
dissolution.  He  had  had  a  slight  stroke  of  paralysis 
which  had  left  a  numbness  in  his  right  side,  and  he  was 
constantly  trying  to  obey  certain  directions  Bearing  had 
laid  down  on  the  day  his  clerks  had  found  him  unable 
to  rise  from  his  desk  in  his  bank.  Bearing's  skill  had 
put  him  on  his  feet  again,  and  the  young  doctor  had 
tried  diplomatically  to  show  his  patient  that  the  cause 
of  the  trouble  lay  in  an  overworked  brain  too  sharply 
centred  on  a  none  too  worthy  purpose.  But  in  this  he 
had  failed.  Old  Simon  would  have  believed  in  any 
lotion,  any  surgical  operation,  or  any  medicine  pre 
scribed  by  Bearing,  no  matter  how  costly,  for  that  was 
in  the  young  man's  line;  but  he  declined  to  listen  to 
any  hint — from  such  a  source,  at  least — that  his  mental 
watchfulness  ought  to  be  curbed.  He  had  won  by  his 
method,  and  that  was  ample  proof  of  its  correctness. 
He  had  risen  from  between  the  plough-handles,  he  told 
Wynn  with  a  satirical  laugh,  and  men  who  had  advised 
him  to  think  less  of  the  almighty  dollar  and  more 
of  his  God  were  in  their  mountain  hovels  giving  away 
advice  for  others  to  live  by.  The  wise  fellows  who 
had  said  in  his  youth  that  he  was  "as  close  as  the 
bark  on  a  tree"  and  "too  mean  to  live"  were  now 
ready  to  beg  at  his  feet  for  money  to  enable  them  to 
purchase  food  for  their  families. 

"Well,  here  you  are  at  last!"  he  thundered,  as  Wynn 
approached  through  the  gloom.  "And  it's  high  time, 
I  am  here  to  say!  It  doesn't  take  a  man  two  hours 
to  go  to  that  bank  and  bring  back  a  simple  statement 

32 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

like  that.  I  want  to  know  to  a  fraction  of  a  cent,  too, 
just  how  that  thing  stands,  and — " 

"Well,  you  don't  owe  me  a  penny,  Mr.  Walton." 
Dearing  laughed.  "I  only  wish  you  did." 

"Oh,  I  thought  it  was  Fred!"  old  Simon  ejaculated, 
not  a  little  chagrined  by  his  lack  of  hospitality.  "  Me 
and  him  have  had  a  little  quarrel  over  his  way  of  doing 
things,  and  I  was  looking  for  him  to  bring  some  papers 
from  the  bank.  He  went  off  with  the  key  an  hour  ago, 
and  hasn't  showed  up  yet.  Have  you  seen  anything  of 
him?" 

"  No ;  in  fact,  that's  what  I  dropped  in  for.  I  wanted 
to  speak  to  him." 

"  Then  I  reckon  he's  not  at  your  house  calling  on  Miss 
Margaret.  I  thought  he  might  be  there,  or  gone  to  take 
that  other  girl,  the  daughter  of  that  old  picture-painter, 
to  meeting.  I  picked  up  a  note  from  her  to  him  the 
other  day,  making  some  appointment  or  other.  I  might 
know  he  wasn't  at  your  house,  though,  after  the  talk  I 
had  with  the  General.  Huh!  your  uncle  needn't  be 
mealymouthed  with  me  about  what  he  thinks  of  the 
scamp!  In  my  day  and  time  a  fellow  of  that  stripe 
would  be  egged  out  of  the  community  he  lived  in.  But 
the  blamed  fools  here  in  Stafford  say  Fred's  pardonable 
to  some  extent  because  I've  saved  up  a  few  cents.  Huh! 
I'll  show  them  and  I'll  show  him  a  thing  or  two  before 
I  am  through!  I've  given  him  a  good  education  at  a 
fine,  high-priced  college,  and  put  him  in  the  bank  in  a 
place  of  trust,  and  he  is  treating  it  as  if  it  was  a  front 
seat  at  a  circus.  Huh!  they  all  laugh  and  call  him  the 
'  Stafford  Prince ' ;  they  say  he  is  a  high-roller ;  that  he's 
invented  a  cocktail,  and  lets  bank-notes  go  like  leaves 
in  a  high  wind.  They  needn't  say  it  is  due  to  the  little 
I've  made,  either,  for  there's  yourself,  for  instance.  You 
had  money  and  property  left  you,  but  it  didn't  make  a 
stark,  staring  idiot  out  of  you.  By  gum!  I  never  see 

33 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

you  or  hear  of  your  fine  operations  without  wanting  to 
cuff  that  fellow  behind  the  ear  and  kick  him  out  into 
the  street.  Came  to  breakfast  this  morning  with  his 
eyes  all  bunged  up  and  swollen.  There  is  one  thing 
about  him  that  is  to  his  credit,  I'll  admit,  and  that  is  he 
won't  lie  when  you  are  looking  him  smack  dab  in  the 
face,  and  when  I  asked  him  if  he  had  been  playing  poker 
he  acknowledged  it.  Think  of  that!  A  boy  of  mine — 
of  Simon  Walton's — playing  cards  for  whopping  big 
stakes  when  I  have  toiled  and  stinted  and  saved  as  I 
have  to  gain  the  little  headway  I've  got." 

"Well,  I  see  he  is  not  here,"  Dearing  said,  awkwardly. 
"Perhaps  I  can  find  him  up- town." 

"Don't  hurry;  set  down,"  and  the  gaunt  man  stood 
up  and  pointed  to  another  chair.  "I  clean  forgot  to 
be  polite,  I'm  so  worked  up.  Take  a  chair — take  a 
chair.  I  simply  want  to  see  what  it  feels  like  to  sit  and 
talk  to  a  decent  man  under  thirty." 

"No,  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Walton,  I  really  can't  stay," 
and  Dearing  laid  his  hand  gently  on  the  quivering 
shoulder  of  the  old  man.  "But  I  want  you  to  remem 
ber  my  warning  about  that  little  trouble  of  yours.  You 
must  not  let  things  stir  you  up  like  this.  You  can't 
stand  it,  you  know,  as  well  as  some  other  men  can." 

"Show  me  how  to  help  it — show  me  how  to  want  to 
help  it!"  spluttered  the  banker.  "I  don't  want  to  keep 
my  temper!  I  don't  want  to  hold  my  tongue!  I  wish 
the  law  of  the  land  would  let  me  take  him,  big  as  he  is, 
and  thrash  him  on  the  streets  before  the  very  folks  that 
call  him,  as  some  have,  an  improvement  on  his  stingy 
old  daddy.  Once  I  thought  I  had  him.  Once  I  thought 
I'd  caught  him  dickering  with  bank  funds,  and  I  had 
started  to  have  him  put  in  limbo  when  he  showed  me 
I  was  wrong.  That's  the  kind  of  man  I  am!  I  put 
honesty  above  everything  else,  and  I  won't  hide  dis 
honor,  even  in  my  own  blood." 

34 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Well,  I'm  off,"  Wynn  Bearing  said.  "I  see  I  only 
keep  you  going  on  the  very  topic  I  have  warned  you 
against.  Good-night." 

As  the  young  doctor  was  approaching  the  gate  he 
saw  a  figure  in  gray,  enveloped,  as  to  head  and  shoulders, 
in  an  old  cashmere  shawl,  emerge  from  a  clump  of  plum- 
trees  near  the  fence.  It  was  Fred  Walton's  stepmother, 
a  tall,  thin  woman  of  more  than  sixty  years  of  age,  and 
even  dim  as  the  starlight  was  he  noticed  the  hardness 
of  her  features  as  she  clutched  the  shawl  under  her  chin 
and  eagerly  peered  out  from  its  folds. 

"Oh,  we  have  had  a  day  of  it,  Dr.  Bearing!"  she  said, 
familiarly,  and  with  a  dry,  forced  laugh.  "When  you 
came  in  at  the  gate  just  now  I  made  the  same  mistake 
Simon  did — I  thought  it  was  Fred,  and  hung  back  at 
the  side  of  the  house  to  hear  the  row.  I  reckon  the  boy 
has  decided  he's  had  enough  tongue-lashing  for  one 
day,  and  don't  intend  to  sleep  here  to-night.  I  don't 
blame  his  father  one  bit,"  she  ran  on,  volubly,  "and  I 
have  the  first  one  to  meet  who  really  does.  Fred  cer 
tainly  keeps  himself  in  the  public  eye.  There  is  hardly 
a  day  that  some  fresh  report  don't  crop  out  as  to  his 
scrapes.  And  the  match-makers!  Great  goodness! 
They  have  enough  to  keep  ten  towns  the  size  of  this 
busy.  They  are  eager  to  see  now  which  Fred  will  tie 
to  for  life :  your  sister,  with  all  her  money  and  fine  old 
name,  or  that  strip  of  a  girl  who  paints  and  teaches  for 
a  bare  living.  Some  say  she  is  daft  about  him,  and  that 
if  your  uncle  kicks  him  out  he  will  settle  on  her.  That's 
what  folks  say,  you  know.  The  truth  is,  I  live  sort  of 
out  of  the  way,  and  don't  hear  all  that  is  going  the 
rounds." 

"That  is  a  matter  I  am  not  posted  on,  Mrs.  Walton," 
Bearing  said,  as  he  opened  the  gate  and  politely  raised 
his  hat  in  parting.  "I  must  hurry.  I  only  wanted  to 
see  Fred  a  minute." 

35 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

As  he  neared  the  central  square  of  the  town  the  rays 
of  light  from  the  church  where  he  had  that  morning 
attended  service  streamed  across  the  green,  and  he  ap 
proached  the  little  edifice,  ascended  the  steps  to  the 
vestibule,  and  cautiously  peered  in  at  the  worshippers, 
wondering  if  by  any  chance  Fred  Walton  might  be  there 
as  Dora  Barry's  escort.  But  no  one  of  the  numerous 
backs  turned  toward  him  resembled  Fred's,  and  his  glance 
moved  on  to  the  pulpit.  The  choir  was  in  full  view,  fac 
ing  the  door,  and  beside  the  keyboard  of  the  organ 
sat  the  girl  who  played  it.  Was  it  the  shadows  from 
the  gas  above  her,  or  was  the  tense  expression  in  her 
eyes  and  the  droop  to  the  sweet  young  mouth  due  to 
some  trouble  even  greater  than  any  he  had  yet  sur 
mised?  He  shuddered  as  he  turned  away  and  pursued 
his  walk  toward  the  square.  He  would  look  for  Walton 
at  the  bank,  and  try  to  divest  his  mind  of  the  disagree 
able  duty  he  had  to  perform;  but  Dora's  face  continued 
to  haunt  him.  The  mute  appeal  of  her  white,  shapely 
hands  patiently  folded  in  her  lap,  the  suggestion  of 
utter  despair  in  her  whole  bearing,  clung  to  him  and 
wrung  his  manly  heart.  She  had  been  his  playmate 
when  she  was  a  tiny  girl  and  he  an  awkward  boy  in  his 
teens.  He  had  loved  her  gentle  old  father,  with  his  long 
hair  and  high,  poetic  brow,  and  had  believed  for  years 
that  Dora  had  inherited  his  genius.  The  artist  had  gone 
back  to  Paris  to  study,  intending  to  send  for  his  wife 
and  child  when  fortune  smiled,  as  he  was  sure  it  would. 
But  he  had  died  there,  and  was  buried  by  his  fellow- 
students  of  the  Latin  Quarter.  They  had  written  the 
fact  to  the  wife  and  orphan,  but  that  was  all.  It  was 
his  child  who  was  in  trouble,  and  Dearing's  heart  ached 
with  a  dull,  insistent  pain. 

There  was  a  light  in  the  bank;  he  saw  its  gleam 
through  the  old-fashioned  panes  of  glass  in  front,  but 
it  went  out  just  as  he  drew  near  the  door,  which  he  saw 

36 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

was  slightly  ajar.  As  he  stood  wondering,  he  heard 
some  one  coming.  It  was  Fred  Walton;  he  was  smok 
ing,  and  the  flare  of  his  cigar  lighted  up  his  dark,  hand 
some  face  for  a  bare  instant.  He  was  tall,  well-built, 
and  strong  of  physique. 

"Hello!     Is  that  you,  Fred?"  Dearing  called  out. 

There  was  a  pause.  Walton  seemed  to  shrink  back 
into  the  darkness  for  a  moment;  then  he  said: 

"Yes.    Who  is  it?" 

"It  is  I,  Fred— Wynn  Dearing." 

"Oh,  it  is  you!"  Walton  drew  the  heavy  door  to 
after  him  as  he  came  out, and  locked  it.  Then  they  stood 
together  on  the  sidewalk  in  the  faint  rays  from  a  gas 
light  on  the  corner  near  by. 

"Yes,  I've  been  looking  for  you,  Fred.  I  went  to 
your  house;  your  father  told  me  you  might  be  here. 
Can't  we  go  in  the  bank?" 

Fred  Walton  stared.  His  face  was  rigid;  beads  of 
sweat  stood  on  his  brow  and  cheeks;  the  cigar  in  his 
mouth  shook. 

"It  is  terribly  hot  in  there,"  he  said,  after  a  pause. 
"I  was  looking  over  the  books,  and — almost  fainted. 
I  didn't  think  it  worth  while  to  unscrew  the  rear  win 
dows,  and  not  a  breath  of  air  is  stirring  in  the  beastly 
hole." 

"We  might  walk  on  to  my  office;  it  is  always  cool. 
I  never  bother  to  shut  the  windows,  even  before  a  rain." 

"Yes,  if — if  you  wish  it,  Wynn;  that  is,  if  you  wish 
to — to  see  me." 

"Yes,  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  Fred." 

They  walked  side  by  side  along  the  pavement.  Wal 
ton  had  his  hat  off,  and  was  wiping  his  face  with  his 
handkerchief.  Once  his  foot  struck  against  some  object, 
and  he  almost  fell.  Something  like  an  oath  of  im 
patience  escaped  his  lips  as  he  drew  himself  up  and 
caught  the  slow,  deliberate  step  of  his  companion. 

37 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Reaching  the  door  of  his  office,  Bearing  unlocked  it, 
pushed  it  open,  and  they  entered  the  little  reception- 
room  in  the  dark.  The  doctor  struck  a  match  and 
lighted  a  lamp  on  a  table,  and  pointed  to  a  rocking-chair. 
"Take  a  seat,  Fred."  A  cold  smile  which  gave  his  face 
almost  a  wry  look  lay  on  his  firm  mouth  as  he  himself 
sat  down  near  a  table  on  which  lay  some  books  and 
magazines.  He  had  not  removed  his  eyes  from  his 
companion,  who,  hat  in  hand,  was  settling  heavily  into 
the  big  chair.  "I've  got  an  unpleasant  duty  before 
me,  Fred — darned  unpleasant,  because  we've  been  friends 
all  our  lives,  and — 

"That's  all  right,  Wynn,  go  ahead." 

"It  is  about  you  and  my  sister,  Fred." 

"  I  was  afraid  it  was  that,  Wynn,"  the  young  man 
muttered.  "The  thought  came  to  me  when  I  heard 
your  voice  in  the  dark  just  now.  Well,  nothing  you  can 
say  will  surprise  me.  I  am  prepared  for  anything — for 
the  very  worst;  in  fact,  I  am  prepared  to  have  Marga — 
pardon  me,  your  sister — send  me  word  that  she  herself 
wishes  to  see  no  more  of  me." 

"I  have  no  such  message  as  that,  Fred,  but  still  it  is 
my  duty  to  lay  the  facts  before  you  just  as  they  are; 
and  I  am  going  to  do  it,  with  the  hope,  old  man,  that 
you'll  be  reasonable  and — help  me  out." 

In  a  calm  voice,  full  of  sincerity  and  stern  conviction, 
Bearing  then  recounted  all  that  had  taken  place  be 
tween  him  and  his  uncle,  ending  with:  "I  give  you  my 
word,  Fred,  and  the  opinion  of  a  physician  who  knows 
the  case,  that  my  uncle  is  not  only  likely  to  worry  him 
self  into  the  grave  over  the  matter,  but  that  he  will 
absolutely,  and  at  once,  cut  my  sister  out  of  her  rightful 
inheritance." 

"But  she  —  surely  she  herself  will  tell  General  Syl 
vester  that  she  is  willing  to — forget  me,  and — " 

Bearing,  without  looking  directly  at  the  speaker, 

38 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

shook  his  head.  "It  is  only  fair  to  her  to  say  that  she 
is  not  made  that  way,  Fred.  She  believes  in  you; 
nothing  on  earth  will  change  her;  she  believes  you  are 
the  soul  of  honor,  and  is  ready  to  throw  my  uncle's 
money  into  his  face.  That's  why  I  came  to  you — to 
you.  I  thought,  and  Uncle  Tom  did,  too,  that  under 
the  circumstances  you  might,  you  see,  rather  than 
stand  between  her  and — " 

Bearing  went  no  further.  He  was  interrupted  by  the 
look  of  agony  which  had  clutched  the  lineaments  of  the 
listener  like  the  throes  of  death.  Walton's  hands,  out 
spread  till  the  fingers  looked  like  prongs  of  hard  wood, 
rose  to  his  face  and  covered  it.  Bearing  saw  a  shudder 
of  restrained  emotion  rise  in  the  strong  frame  and  quiver 
through  it.  A  sound  like  a  sob  issued  from  the  bent 
form.  Neither  spoke  for  more  than  a  minute.  The 
step  of  a  passer-by  rang  sharply  on  the  still  night  air. 
The  tones  from  Bora  Barry's  organ  swelled  out  in  the 
distance  and  rolled  toward  them,  followed  by  the  sing 
ing  of  the  choir.  Suddenly  Walton  rose,  and  leaned  on 
the  back  of  his  chair. 

"It  is  all  up  with  me,  Wynn!"  he  groaned,  deeply. 
"After  to-night  you'll  never  be  troubled  by  me  in  any 
shape,  form,  or  fashion.  I  wish  I  could  be  man  enough 
to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  all  to  you,  but  what's  the 
use?  It  wouldn't  do  any  good  or  help  the  matter. 
You'll  know  to-morrow,  as  all  Stafford  will.  I'll  say 
this,  though:  I  am  wholly  unworthy  of  your  sister's  con 
fidence  and  respect.  To  have  paid  her  such  attentions, 
situated  as  I  am  situated,  was  an  insult.  I  have  com 
mitted  an  offence  known  so  far  to  no  one  but  myself, 
and  which  can  never  be  pardoned.  I  am  at  the  end  of 
my  rope,  old  chap.  If  I  could  undo  my  act  by  ending 
my  wretched  life,  I'd  do  it  to-night.  I  love  your  sister 
as  sincerely  as  a  man  ever  loved  a  woman,  but  I  have 
no  earthly  right  to  think  of  her,  much  less  to  consider 

4  39 


THE   REDEMPTION   OF   KENNETH   GALT 

myself  a  suitor  for  her  hand.  When  she  knows  the 
truth — the  whole  wretched  truth — she  herself  will  turn 
from  me  in  disgust,  and  blush  with  shame  at  the  thought 
of  ever  having  encouraged  me.  You  have  the  right,  as  a 
man  and  her  brother,  to  kick  me  for  my  presumption. 
I  can't  go  into  details.  I  could  not  bear  to  see  your  face 
as  you  hear  it,  but  it  will  be  in  every  one's  mouth  to 
morrow." 

"Oh,  Fred,  surely  you — "  Bearing  started  to  say, 
but,  raising  his  hand,  Walton  interrupted  him. 

"Never  mind,  Wynn.  I  have  said  enough.  I  have 
no  right  to  send  your  sister  even  a  farewell  message, 
certainly  not  to  tell  her  what  my  feeling  for  her  is  at 
this  moment;  but  it  will  be  best  for  the  General  to  rest 
assured,  so  you  may  give  him  my  word  that  I'll  never 
cross  her  path  again.  I  am  going  away  to-night,  never 
to  be  seen  here  any  more.  I  am  not  man  enough  to 
face  this  town  after  my  conduct  becomes  public.  I  was 
weak.  I  fell — that's  all.  I  don't  know  what  will  be 
come  of  me.  I  blame  no  one  but  myself,  certainly  not 
my  poor  old  father.  You  will  not  see  me  again.  Good 
bye.  I  need  not  wish  you  well;  you  will  do  well.  You 
were  marked  by  Fate  from  the  start  as  one  of  the 
lucky,  uncursed  ones." 

The  doctor  stood  up  and  extended  his  hand  to  detain 
him,  but  Walton  had  turned  hastily  away.  Bearing 
heard  his  dragging  feet  in  the  corridor  and  then  on  the 
sidewalk. 

"Poor  chap!  It  is  something  very,  very  serious," 
he  mused.  "Nothing  but  terrible  trouble  would  work 
a  man  up  like  that.  I  wonder  if — "  He  started  and 
shuddered.  Mrs.  Barry's  pale,  troubled  face  of  the 
morning  came  before  him,  then  Bora's  downcast  atti 
tude  as  he  had  seen  her  in  the  choir  only  a  few  mo 
ments  before.  He  started,  and  his  blood  ran  cold 
through  his  veins.  Could  it  be  possible  —  could  any 

40 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

man  sink  low  enough  to — ?  No;  he  would  not  even 
think  of  it,  else  he  would  regret  not  having  killed  the 
man  as  he  sat  bowed  before  him.  No,  it  wasn't  that — 
the  human  monster  did  not  live  who  could  pluck  and 
stamp  upon  that  beautiful  and  helpless  flower  of  maiden 
hood.  He  extinguished  the  lamp,  went  out  into  the  dark 
street,  and  closed  his  door.  The  congregation  was  leav 
ing  the  church  as  he  reached  it.  Among  the  last  to  go 
was  Dora.  He  fell  in  behind  her,  but  made  no  effort  to 
catch  her  up.  She  had  shown  no  willingness  to  talk  to 
him  that  morning,  and  he  would  not  disturb  her  now. 
Perhaps  the  girl  was  really  in  love  with  Walton,  and  had 
gleaned  some  inkling  of  the  young  man's  trouble.  Yes, 
that  would  explain  her  present  depression.  He  walked 
behind  her  till  she  disappeared  at  the  cottage  gate ;  then 
he  turned  and  went  homeward  past  Kenneth  Gait's 
grounds.  He  saw  a  spark  of  fire  moving  about  under 
the  trees  to  the  right  of  the  gloomy-looking  residence 
which  to-night  seemed  devoid  of  any  light,  and  knew 
that  Gait  was  there  smoking  alone,  as  was  his  habit  at 
that  hour.  Bearing  put  his  hand  out  to  the  gate-latch. 
Perhaps  a  chat  with  his  philosophic  friend  would  help 
clear  his  brain  of  the  maddening  thoughts  which  surged 
about  him,  but  he  paused. 

"No;  Madge  will  be  up  waiting  for  me,"  he  reflected. 
"I  may  as  well  meet  her  and  let  her  know  the  worst. 
Poor  girl,  she'll  have  to  be  brave!" 

He  moved  on  to  his  own  gate.  There  was  no  one  on 
the  veranda,  as  was  often  the  case  in  warm  weather,  but 
in  a  little  pagoda-shaped  summer-house  on  the  lawn  he 
descried  a  white  object.  It  stirred  as  the  hinges  of 
the  gate  creaked,  and  he  entered,  It  was  Margaret,  and 
she  came  to  him  like  a  spirit  across  the  grass. 

"I  told  you  I'd  wait,"  she  reminded  him,  and  her 
voice  sounded  strange  and  even  harsh  in  its  guttural 
tendency.  "I  thought  you'd  never  come." 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Through  all  that  had  passed  between  him  and  Fred 
Walton  that  night  Bearing's  anger  and  resentment  had 
been  held  in  check  by  sympathy  for  the  man  in  his  des 
perate  plight  and  despair;  but  now,  as  he  saw  the  evi 
dences  of  his  sister's  agony  written  all  too  plainly  upon 
her  young  being,  his  indignation  kindled.  The  scoun 
drel,  the  coward,  was  running  away  to  keep  from 
facing  public  opinion,  yet  was  leaving  this  poor,  crushed 
girl  to  suffer  in  consequence  of  his  conduct ! 

"You  ought  not  to  have  waited,"  he  reproached  her, 
in  a  tone  she  had  never  heard  him  use.  "Your  being 
here  now,  looking  like  this,  is  an  acknowledgment  that 
you  actually  care  for  the  cowardly  cur — you,  who  ought 
to — " 

"Brother,  stop!"  The  girl  clutched  his  arms.  She 
breathed  hard  against  his  breast  as  she  leaned  close  to 
him.  "'The  cowardly  cur,'  you  say — you,  who  have 
never  abused  him  before." 

"I  wonder  now  that  I  let  him  go  with  a  whole  bone 
in  his  body,"  Dearing  retorted,  raspingly.  "  I  didn't 
realize  what  I  was  doing,  or  I — 

"Oh,  what  do  you  mean?"  Margaret  interrupted,  giv 
ing  him  a  quick,  impatient  shake.  "You  needn't  come 
here  trying  to  make  me  believe  vile  slander.  It  is  easy 
enough  for  lies  to  get  circulated  in  a  town  noted  for  its 
tattling  busybodies." 

"Ive  had  his  own  deliberate  confession,"  Dearing 
answered.  "With  his  head  hanging  in  shame  and  his 
face  covered  he  told  me  he  was  forced  by  some  dis 
honorable  act  to  leave  town,  never  to  return.  He  didn't 
tell  me  what  he  had  done;  he  said  he'd  rather  not  go 
into  it,  but  that  it  would  all  be  out  to-morrow.  Of  his 
own  accord  he  proposed  to  give  you  up,  and  said  1 
might  tell  Uncle  Tom  that  he'd  never  see  or  write  to 
you  again.  Whatever  it  is,  you  ought  to  have  sufficient 
pride  to — " 

42 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Bearing  stopped  short.  With  a  low  moan  Margaret 
was  reeling  toward  him,  and,  as  he  caught  her  to  keep 
her  from  falling,  he  saw  that  she  had  fainted.  Lifting 
her  up,  Bearing  bore  her  into  the  house  and  up  the  stairs 
to  her  room.  He  laid  her  on  her  bed,  glad  that  his 
uncle  and  the  servants  had  not  noticed  the  accident. 
He  sprinkled  her  face  with  water.  She  opened  her 
eyes  as  he  bent  over  her  in  the  darkness,  and  recog 
nized  him. 

"You  are  all  right  now,  Madge,  darling,"  he  said, 
huskily,  as  he  fondly  kissed  her.  "Be  calm  and  go 
to  sleep.  You  must  not  suffer  on  account  of  this  man. 
He  is  absolutely  unworthy  of  your  regard,  and  that 
ought  to  settle  it,  so  far  as  you  are  concerned." 

Margaret  sat  up,  and  put  her  arms  about  her  brother's 
neck. 

"  I  was  afraid  the  other  day  that  something  was  wrong 
—that  something  terrible  was  about  to  happen  to  him," 
she  sobbed.  "  He  was  awfully  gloomy.  He  seemed 
to  be  on  the  point  of  confiding  in  me  every  minute, 
but  couldn't  get  it  out.  You  say  you  have  no  idea 
what  it  is?" 

"No;  but  he  says  it  will  be  public  property  to-morrow. 
Try  to  forget  it.  You  must  call  your  pride  to  your  aid. 
Uncle  was  right  in  his  objections  to  him,  and  you  were 
wrong.  I  neglected  my  duty  in  not  seeing  him  even 
sooner  than  I  did.  Now,  good-night." 

Leaving  her  with  a  kiss  on  her  cold  cheek,  Bearing, 
choking  down  a  lump  in  his  throat,  went  to  his  own  room. 
The  windows  facing  the  south  looked  out  on  Kenneth 
Gait's  grounds,  and  Bearing  could  still  see  his  friend's 
cigar  intermittently  glowing  as  the  student,  philosopher, 
and  successful  financier  strode  back  and  forth. 

"Who  knows?  Kenneth  may  be  right,  after  all," 
Bearing  mused,  bitterly.  "At  such  moments  as  this 
one  wonders  if  there  really  can  be  a  God  who  is  justly 

43 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

ruling  the  universe.  What  has  poor  little  Madge  done, 
in  her  gentle  purity,  to  merit  this  crushing*  blow  ?  It 
was  her  very  trusting  innocence  that  brought  it  upon 
her," 

It  was  one  of  Dealing's  habits  to  say  his  prayers  at 
night  on  retiring,  and  when  he  had  disrobed  he  knelt 
by  his  bedside.  But  somehow  the  words  failed  to  come 
as  readily  as  had  been  their  wont ;  he  was  trying  to  pray 
for  the  relief  of  his  sister,  but  reason  kept  telling  him 
that  it  was  a  futile  appeal.  God  had  not  hindered  the 
approach  of  the  calamity;  why  should  mere  human  ap 
peal  immediately  lift  it?  So  he  said  his  "  Amen"  sooner 
than  usual,  and  with  a  brain  hot  over  the  memory  of 
Walton's  looks  and  words,  he  rolled  and  tossed  on  a 
sleepless  bed  till  far  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  V 


JHEN  Fred  Walton  left  Bearing's  office, 
I  he  went  along  the  street  toward  his 
father's  home.  He  walked  slowly,  ab 
solute  despair  showing  itself  in  the  droop 
of  his  powerful  body,  and  in  the  help 
less,  animal  glare  of  his  eyes.  He  had 
reached  a  point  from  which,  the  street  being  on  a  slight 
elevation,  he  could  see  the  old  house  in  which  he  was 
born.  He  paused.  All  about  him  was  peace,  stillness, 
and  incongruous  content.  The  town  clock,  capping  the 
brick  stand-pipe  of  the  waterworks,  struck  nine  solemn 
strokes,  and  he  could  feel  the  after-vibrations  of  the 
mellow  metal  as  the  sound  died  away.  He  turned, 
leaving  his  home  on  the  left,  and  walked  on  aimlessly 
till  the  houses  which  bordered  the  way  became  more 
scattered,  and  then  he  reached  a  bridge  which  spanned 
a  little  river.  A  full  moon  was  rising.  Through  the 
foliage  of  the  near-by  trees  it  looked  like  a  world  of  fire 
away  off  in  space.  Its  red  rays  fell  on  the  swiftly  rush 
ing  water,  throwing  on  its  surface  a  path  of  flaming 
blood.  He  went  out  on  the  structure,  and  leaned  against 
the  iron  railing.  Just  beyond  the  end  of  the  bridge 
rose  a  green-clad  hill.  It  had  a  high  fence  around  it, 
and  a  wide  gateway  with  a  white,  crescent-shaped  sign 
above  it.  It  was  the  Stafford  cemetery. 

"Yes,  I  ought  to  see  it  once  more  before  I  go,"  he 
said.  "It  will  be  the  last  time — the  very  last;  and  sure 
ly,  though  I'll  blush  in  her  dead  presence,  thief  as  I 
am,  I  ought  to  go." 

45 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

He  crossed  to  the  other  side,  and  went  into  the  gate 
of  the  enclosure.  Threading  his  way  among  the  mon 
uments,  his  brow  reverently  bared  to  the  solemn  moon 
light,  he  came  to  a  square  plot  surrounded  by  an  ivy- 
coated  brick  wall  with  a  granite  coping.  It  contained 
several  graves  bearing  his  name,  but  only  one  engaged 
his  attention.  He  sat  down  on  its  footstone,  and,  with 
his  head  still  bare,  he  remained  motionless  for  a  long 
time. 

"  She  didn't  know  the  son  she  used  to  be  so  proud  of 
would  ever  come  to  this,"  he  said,  bitterly.  "With  all 
her  hopes  and  prayers,  she  little  knew  that  I'd  be  an 
outcast — actually  forced  to  flee  from  the  law;  she  lit 
tle  dreamed  it  would  come  to  that  when  she  used  to 
talk  of  the  great  and  good  things  I  was  to  do.  Poor, 
dear,  little  mother!  You'd  rather  be  dead  than  alive 
to-night.  I  wonder  if  it  is  absolutely  too  late?  Perhaps, 
far  away,  under  a  new  name  and  among  strangers,  I  may 
be  able  to  live  differently.  And  if  I  could,  she  would 
know  and  be  glad.  Mother,  listen,  dear!"  A  sob  rose 
in  him,  and  shook  him  from  head  to  foot.  "The  wrong 
I  did  was  done  when  my  brain  was  turned  by  liquor,  and 
I  did  not  realize  my  danger  till  it  was  too  late;  I  swear 
here — right  here — to  you,  dear  little  mother,  that  from 
this  moment  on  I'll  try  to  be  better.  I  may  fail,  but 
I'll  try.  I  swear,  too,  that  from  this  moment  on  I'll 
bend  every  energy  of  my  soul  and  body  to  the  undoing 
of  the  thing  of  which  I  am  guilty." 

He  stood  up.  Ten  solemn  strokes  of  the  town  clock 
rang  out  on  the  profound  stillness.  The  air  was  vibrant 
with  a  myriad  insect  voices  from  the  marshes  along  the 
river.  Rays  of  lamplight  shot  across  the  shrubbery 
between  the  shafts  and  the  slabs  of  stone.  They  came 
from  a  window  in  the  cottage  of  the  sexton  of  the  cem 
etery.  The  lone  visitor  saw  a  shaggy  head  of  hair,  a 
long,  ragged  beard  the  color  of  the  clay  beneath  the  soil, 

46 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

and  a  rugged  face,  gashed  and  seamed  by  time.  The 
old  man  was  smoking — placidly  smoking.  Even  a  hum 
ble  digger  of  graves  could  be  content,  while  this  young, 
vigorous  soul  was  steeped  in  the  dregs  of  despair.  Wal 
ton  turned  away,  slowly  retraced  his  steps  to  the  out 
side,  crossed  the  river,  and,  careful  to  avoid  meeting 
any  one,  he  finally  came  again  to  his  father's  house. 
It  was  dark. 

"  I  might  get  in  at  a  window  and  bring  away  a  few 
things  to  wear,"  he  reflected.  "  But  no,  I  must  not  risk 
it.  He  might  meet  me  face  to  face  and  demand  the 
truth.  I'd  have  to  tell  him.  Sharp  of  sight,  and  sus 
picious  as  he  now  is,  he  would  read  it  in  my  face,  and 
order  my  arrest.  Yes,  he  would  do  it.  He  is  my  father, 
but  he  would  do  it." 

On  he  went,  now  headed  for  the  square.  Reaching 
the  bank,  the  thought  occurred  to  him  that,  having  a 
key,  he  would  go  in  and  write  a  note  to  his  father.  A 
moment  later  he  had  locked  himself  within  the  stifling 
place,  and  under  a  flaring  gas-jet,  and  seated  on  the  high 
office-stool  at  a  desk,  he  wrote  as  follows: 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — Surprised  though  you've  never  been 
at  my  numerous  bad  acts,  you  will  be  now  at  what  I 
am  about  to  confess.  For  more  than  a  week  I  have  been 
covering  up  a  shortage  in  my  account  which  amounts  to 
more  than  you  can  afford  to  lose  without  warning.  I  am 
five  thousand  dollars  behind,  and  am  absolutely  unable  to 
replace  it.  I  shall  make  no  excuses.  Being  your  son  gave 
me  no  right  to  the  money,  but  taking  it  at  a  time  when  I 
believed  it  would  save  me  in  a  certain  speculation  in  fut 
ures,  I  told  myself  that  I  had  the  right,  as  your  son  and 
heir,  to  borrow  it.  That  I  looked  at  it  that  way,  and  was 
half  intoxicated  at  the  time  the  deed  was  committed,  is 
all  that  I  can  say  by  way  of  palliation  of  my  offence. 

You  once  said  to  me  that  if  I  ever  did  anything  of  this 
sort  that  you  would  turn  me  over  to  the  law  exactly  as 

47 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

you  would  any  stranger,  and  I  understand  you  well  enough 
to  know  that  you  will  keep  your  word.  You  would  do 
it  in  your  anger,  even  if  you  regretted  it  afterward;  so, 
father,  I  am  leaving  home  to-night,  never  to  return.  Don't 
think  I  am  taking  any  more  of  your  money,  either,  for  I 
am  not.  I  am  leaving  without  a  penny.  I  don't  know 
where  I  shall  go,  but  I  am  starting  out  into  the  world  to 
try  to  begin  life  anew.  You  have  always  contended  that 
my  hopes  of  inheriting  your  savings  was  the  prime  cause 
of  my  failure,  and  that  had  I  been  forced  to  struggle  for 
myself,  as  you  had  to  do  as  a  young  man,  I  should  have 
known  the  true  value  of  money.  I  believe  you  are  right, 
and  to-night,  as  I  am  leaving,  a  certain  hope  comes  to  me 
that  maybe  there  is  enough  of  your  sterling  energy  in  me 
to  make  a  man  of  me  eventually.  Perhaps  it  won't  count 
much  with  you  for  me  to  say  that  I  am  going  to  try  to  be 
straight  and  honorable  from  now  on.  You  never  have  had 
faith  in  my  promises,  but  you  have  never  seen  me  tried 
as  I  shall  be  tried.  I  know  how  much  I  owe  you  to  a  cent, 
and  as  fast  as  I  earn  money — if  I  can  earn  any — it  shall 
be  sent  back  to  you,  and,  if  I  live,  I  shall  wipe  out  the 
debt  which  now  stands  against  me.  I  wish  I  could  put  my 
arms  round  your  neck  to-night  and  beg  your  forgiveness 
before  I  go,  but  you'd  not  trust  me.  In  your  fury  over 
your  loss  you'd  not  give  me  the  chance  I  must  have  to 
redeem  myself,  and  this  is  the  only  way.  But,  oh,  father, 
do,  do  give  me  this  last  chance!  For  the  sake  of  my  moth 
er's  memory,  and  your  name,  which  I  have  tarnished,  don't 
try  to  hunt  me  down  like  a  common  thief!  I  want  one 
more  opportunity.  Do,  do,  give  it  to  me!  Good-bye. 

FREDERIC. 

Folding  the  sheets  on  which  he  had  written,  Walton 
put  them  into  an  envelope  and  placed  it  on  his  fa 
ther's  desk.  He  was  now  ready  to  go,  but  paused 
again. 

"I  can't  write  to  Margaret,"  he  said.  "I  have  prom 
ised  not  to.  Her  brother  will  tell  her  enough,  anyway, 
to  make  her  ashamed  that  she  ever  knew  me;  but  there 

48 


r.  r;  r_  n  r  r 
-  c/-.  rv  r-  eo 

THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

is  poor  Dora — my  dear,  trusting  friend.     I  must  not  go 
without  a  line  to  her." 

He  seated  himself  again,  and  wrote  as  follows: 

MY  DEAR  LITTLE  FRIEND, — You  have  said  several  times 
of  late  that  you  feared  I  had  some  burden  on  my  mind 
because  I  was  not  as  cheerful  as  I  used  to  be.  Well,  your 
sharp,  kindly  eyes  were  reading  a  truth  I  was  trying  to 
conceal.  I  have  got  myself  into  most  serious  trouble.  I 
haven't  the  heart  to  go  into  details  over  it;  I  need  not, 
anyway,  for  my  father  will  let  it  out  soon  enough.  Every 
tongue  in  old  Stafford  will  wag  and  clatter  over  the  final 
finish  of  the  town's  daredevil  to-morrow.  And  it  will 
pain  you,  too,  for  of  all  my  friends,  young  as  you  are, 
you  were  my  soundest  adviser.  You  used  to  say  that  I'd 
soon  sow  my  wild  oats,  and  settle  down  and  make  a  man 
of  myself.  You  used  to  say,  too,  that  I'd  finally  win  the 
girl  who — but,  disgraced  as  I  am,  I  won't  mention  her  name. 
I  have  lost  her  forever,  dear  Dora.  She  may  have  cared 
a  little  for  me,  but  she  won't  when  she  knows  how  low  I've 
fallen.  I  am  going  far  away  to  try  to  hew  out  some  sort  of 
a  new  road.  I  may  fail,  as  I  have  always  failed,  but  if  I 
do,  my  failure  will  not  be  added  to  the  list  of  my  short 
comings  here  in  Stafford. 

Now,  dear  Dora,  forgive  me  for  speaking  of  something 
concerning  you.  For  the  last  month,  though  I  did  not 
mention  it,  I  have  been  afraid  that  all  was  not  going  quite 
well  with  you,  either.  You  almost  admitted  it  once  when  I 
caught  you  crying.  You  remember,  it  was  the  evening  I 
met  Kenneth  Gait  and  you  in  the  wood  back  of  your 
house — the  evening  your  mother,  you  remember,  thought 
you  had  been  out  with  me,  and  scolded  us  both.  I  saw 
plainly  that  you  did  not  want  her  to  know  you  had  met 
him,  and  so  I  said  nothing;  but  the  thing  has  troubled  me 
a  great  deal,  I'll  admit.  I  really  know  nothing  seriously 
against  the  man,  but  he  has  queer,  almost  too  modern,  views 
in  regard  to  love,  and  I  think,  dear  Dora,  that  maybe  you 
have  imbibed  some  of  them.  Secret  association  like  that 
cannot  be  best  for  a  young  girl,  and  so  I  feel  that  I  can't 

49 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

go  away  without  just  this  little  warning.  He  is  a  wealthy 
man  of  the  world,  and  his  friendship  with  a  sweet,  pure 
girl  like  you  are  ought  to  be  open  and  aboveboard.  You 
are  rarely  beautiful,  dear  Dora.  Your  painting  shows  that 
you  are  a  genius.  You  have  a  great  future  before  you; 
don't  spoil  it  all  by  becoming  too  much  interested  in  this 
man.  It  may  appeal  to  your  romantic  side  to  meet  him 
like  that,  but  it  can't — simply  can't  be  best.  Now,  you 
will  forgive  your  "big  brother,"  won't  you?  I  may  never 
come  back;  I  may  never  even  write,  but  I  shall  often  think 
lovingly  of  you,  dear  friend.  Good-bye. 

When  he  had  signed,  sealed,  and  directed  the  letter, 
he  put  a  stamp  on  it  and  went  out  and  closed  the  bank, 
pushing  the  key  back  into  the  room  through  a  crack 
beneath  the  shutter.  He  then  slowly  crossed  the  de 
serted  square  to  the  post-office  on  the  corner  and  de 
posited  the  letter.  After  this  he  stood  with  his  strong 
arms  folded,  looking  about  irresolutely.  In  front  of 
him  lay  the  town's  single  line  of  horse-cars,  which  led 
to  the  railway  station  half  a  mile  distant.  One  of  the 
cars  stood  in  front  of  him.  It  had  made  its  last  slow 
and  jangling  trip  to  meet  the  nine-o'clock  north-bound 
train.  The  track  stretched  out  before  him,  the  worn 
bars  gleaming  like  threads  of  silver  in  the  moonlight. 
Casting  one  other  look  about  him,  and  heaving  a  deep 
sigh,  he  lowered  his  head  and  started  for  the  station. 

"  I  think  this  is  Jack  Thomas'  run,"  he  reflected.  "  If 
it  is,  he  will  take  me  aboard." 


CHAPTER  VI 

I  BACHING  the  depot  in  the  edge  of  the 
town  where  there  were  only  three  or  four 
cottages,  a  hotel  of  the  lowest  class,  and 
a  negro  dive  masquerading  as  a  restau 
rant,  at  which  fried  spring  chicken,  hot 
biscuits,  and  a  cup  of  coffee  were  ad 
vertised  on  a  crude  placard  for  twenty-five  cents,  he  met 
few  signs  of  wakefulness.     At  a  switch  near  a  water- 
tank  with  a  dripping  spout  a  watchman  stood  with  a 
dingy  lantern.     Walton  moved  over  to  him. 
"South-bound  freight  on  time?"  he  asked. 
The  man  looked  at  him  indifferently.     "I  heard  her 
blow  at  the  crossing,"  he  answered.     "There!  can't  you 
hear  her  rumble?" 

"Who's  the  conductor?" 

"Jack  Thomas,  if  he  didn't  lay  over  at  Red  Hill  to 
spend  Sunday  with  his  folks." 

"I  want  to  speak  to  him.  Where  will  his  cab  stop?" 
The  man  had  filled  his  short  pipe,  and  he  took  the  globe 
off  his  lantern  to  light  it.  "The  engine  will  water  here 
at  the  tank,"  he  said,  gruffly.  "The  cab  will  stop  down 
near  the  tool-house  on  account  of  the  length  of  the 
train — a  lot  of  empty  fruit-cars  going  South." 

"All  right;  thank  you."  Walton  moved  away,  and 
leaned  against  a  stack  of  cross-ties  near  the  tool-house. 
He  could  now  quite  clearly  hear  the  rumble  of  the  com 
ing  train.  There  was  a  wide  stretch  of  old  cotton  and 
corn  fields,  now  barren  and  out  of  use,  between  him  and 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

the  train,  and  across  them  presently  shot  the  wavering 
gleam  of  the  engine's  headlight.  On  it  came,  growing 
larger  and  steadier  till  it  had  passed  him,  and  with  the 
harsh  creaking  of  brakes  on  massive,  groaning  wheels 
the  locomotive  came  to  a  stop.  The  side  door  of  the 
caboose  was  open.  A  man  holding  a  lantern  lightly 
swung  himself  to  the  ground,  and  peered  up  at  a  brake- 
man  on  the  roof  of  the  car. 

"Unwind  her,  and  run  to  the  other  end!"  he  ordered. 
"  You  needn't  hang  around  my  cab  all  night.  I  haven't 
a  drop  to  drink." 

"All  right,  Cap,"  and,  jumping  from  car  to  car  on  the 
foot-boards  overhead,  the  brakeman  disappeared  in  the 
cloud  of  steam  and  smoke  which  the  locomotive  was 
belching  forth. 

"Hello,  Jack!"     Walton  came  forward. 

"Hello!  Good  Lord,  Fred,  what  are  you  doing  down 
here  this  time  of  night?  I  thought  you  fellows  had  a 
game  on  every  Sunday.  I  was  just  wishing  I  had  enough 
boodle  ahead  to  lay  over  and  walk  away  with  some 
Stafford  coin.  I  want  to  get  even  for  the  last  hold-up 
you  blacklegs  gave  me." 

"I'm  dead  broke,  Jack,  old  man,"  Walton  said,  avoid 
ing  the  eyes  of  his  friend.  "  I  want  to  get  to  Atlanta 
before  the  morning  train,  and  I  wondered — 

"  If  I'd  take  you  ?  Of  course  I  will.  I'm  sorry  to  hear 
you  are  broke,  though,  for  we  might  pass  the  time  with 
a  game.  It's  down-grade,"  he  laughed,  impulsively; 
"we  might  turn  old  No.  12  over  to  the  fireman,  and  get 
the  engineer  and  brakeman  to  come  in  and  try  a  round." 

"I  wouldn't  trust  myself  with  three  railroad  men," 
Walton  tried  to  jest,  "even  if  I  hadn't  sworn  off." 

"  What!  again  ?  Oh,  that  is  a  joke!"  Thomas  laughed. 
"You  Stafford  chaps  say  you  swear  off,  then  practice 
night  and  day,  and  stick  it  to  the  first  galoot  that  comes 
along.  Oh,  I  am  on!"  There  was  a  sound  of  rushing 

52 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

water  from  the  tank  ahead.  In  the  dim  light  in  the 
locomotive  they  could  see  the  fireman  on  the  tender 
astride  of  the  swinging  pipe. 

"I'm  glad  you  will  take  me  along,  Jack,"  Walton  re 
plied.  "  I  want  to  get  to  Atlanta,  and  haven't  a  cent 
on  earth.  The  truth  is,  I  am  in  bad  shape." 

"  I've  heard  you  sing  that  song  before,"  the  conductor 
replied,  with  an  incredulous  smile.  He  raised  his 
lantern  till  the  yellow  light  fell  on  Walton's  face,  and 
he  stared  in  astonishment.  "Why,  really,  you  do  look 
kind  o'  bunged  up.  What's  the  matter,  old  chap?" 

"  I'm  simply  down  and  out,  Jack,  that's  the  sum  and 
substance  of  it.  I  am  down  and  out.  When  do  you 
start?" 

"  In  a  minute.  I've  got  to  run  clean  round  the  train 
and  examine  my  door-seals.  Climb  in.  I'll  swing  on 
as  we  leave  the  yard.  Make  yourself  comfortable. 
Huh!  you  are  done  for,  eh?  That  is  a  joke!" 

Climbing  the  iron  step,  Walton  found  himself  in  the 
caboose.  It  was  dimly  lighted  by  a  lamp  in  a  curved 
tin  holder  on  the  wall  over  a  crude  desk  with  pigeon 
holes.  Here  the  conductor  kept  a  pencil  tied  to  a 
string,  and  some  yellow  blanks  for  reports  and  telegrams. 
There  was  a  hard,  smooth,  backless  bench  near  the  door, 
and  a  narrow  cot  with  wooden  sides  and  ends.  On  an 
inverted  box  stood  a  tin  pitcher,  a  wash-basin,  and  a 
cake  of  coarse  yellow  soap.  On  a  hook  hung  a  soiled 
towel ;  a  pair  of  blue  overalls,  a  white  shirt,  and  a  tattered 
raincoat  were  suspended  at  the  sport  of  the  wind  and 
motion  of  the  car  on  other  hooks  along  the  wall. 

There  was  a  harsh,  snarling  sound  as  the  hinged  water- 
pipe  was  drawn  up  on  its  chains;  the  clanging  of  a  bell; 
the  shriek  of  the  locomotive's  whistle;  a  quickening 
succession  of  jerks,  communicated  from  bumper  to 
bumper,  and  the  train  was  off.  Walton  was  glad  to  be 
alone  with  the  desolate  pain  that  clutched  him  now  with 

53 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

renewed  force.  He  wanted  no  human  eye  to  witness  his 
misery.  Away  off  there,  beyond  the  hills,  in  its  shroud 
of  mystic  moonlight,  lay  the  town  he  now  loved  with  a 
yearning  which  all  but  tore  his  heart  from  his  body. 
He  was  looking  at  the  old  place  for  the  last  time  unless, 
unless — and  his  blood  ran  cold  at  the  thought — unless 
he  was  brought  back  by  the  officers  of  the  law  to  answer 
for  his  crime.  Yes,  that  might  be  his  fate,  after  all. 
A  city  so  well  policed  as  Atlanta  would  prove  a  poor 
hiding-place  for  a  penniless  fugitive.  A  telegram  from 
Stafford  would  put  the  authorities  on  the  alert,  and 
escape  would  be  impossible.  And  no  sentimental 
reasons  would  check  prompt  action  on  the  part  of  old 
Simon  Walton.  In  his  rage  over  the  discovery  of  the 
unexpected  loss  of  such  a  large  amount  of  ever-needed 
cash,  he  would  balk  at  nothing.  Of  family  pride  he  had 
little — certainly  not  pride  strong  enough  to  make  him 
a  party  to  the  concealment  of  crime,  even  in  his  own 
blood. 

"  If  I  have  to  be  the  daddy  of  a  thief,"  Fred  imagined 
his  saying,  "  I'd  rather  be  the  daddy  of  one  under  lock 
and  key,  where  he  could  be  controlled  like  any  other  sort 
of  maniac." 

Yes,  he  must  make  good  his  escape,  the  young  man 
reflected;  there  was  no  other  way.  Escape  meant  a 
chance,  at  least,  for  reformation  and  atonement,  and 
he  must  reform — he  must  atone. 

The  train  was  rounding  a  curve.  A  sudden  and  deeper 
pain  shot  through  him,  for  on  a  hill,  in  a  grove  not  far 
off,  he  saw  the  roof,  gables,  windows,  and  walls  of  a 
country  house  he  well  knew.  It  was  there,  at  a  house- 
party,  that  he  had  been  thrown  for  the  first  time  with 
Margaret  Bearing  and  had  learned  to  love  her.  His 
eyes  were  blinded  by  tears  he  could  not  restrain  as  he 
tried  to  descry  the  exact  spot  among  the  trees  where  he 
and  she  had  sat  that  glorious  morning  in  early  autumn. 

54 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  God  have  mercy!"  He  leaned  against  the  side  of  the 
car  and  groaned.  Even  now  she  knew  of  his  ruin.  Her 
brother  had  already  prepared  her  for  the  news,  which 
would  spread  through  the  town  like  wild-fire.  She 
knew,  and  her  proud  brow  was  burning  under  the  shame 
of  having  trusted  a  coward  and  a  knave  to  the  extent 
of  having  had  her  name  coupled  with  his.  He  stood  in 
the  centre  of  the  car,  swayed  back  and  forth  by  its  ruth 
less  motion.  Those  merciless  wheels,  grinding  so  close 
beneath,  would  end  it  all.  It  would  be  an  easy  thing 
to  swing  himself  under  the  car  door  till  he  was  over  the 
rail  and  then  let  go — let  go!  He  shuddered,  and  turned 
cold  from  head  to  foot. 

There  was  a  thumping  overhead  as  some  one  leaped 
from  the  roof  of  the  car  ahead  to  that  of  the  caboose. 
There  was  a  scraping  of  soles  and  heels  on  the  tin  cover 
ing,  a  step  on  the  iron  ladder  by  the  door,  and  the  con 
ductor  lunged  into  the  car. 

"  Got  on  by  the  very  skin  of  my  teeth,"  he  said,  with  a 
merry  oath.  "  We  are  on  the  down-grade,  and  we  started 
quick.  But  why  don't  you  take  a  seat  ?"  He  raised  his 
lantern,  and  the  rays  fell  full  on  Walton's  pallid  face. 
" Say,  old  man,  are  you  as  hard  hit  as  all  that?" 

"  It  couldn't  be  harder,  Jack,"  Walton  said.  "  I  am 
at  the  end  of  my  rope." 

"Well,  I  am  sorry — I'm  real  sorry,"  the  conductor 
declared.  "  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do.  It's  a  tough  ride 
to  Atlanta,  along  with  our  stops  and  sidings  and  waits 
on  through  trains.  There  won't  be  a  soul  in  the  bunk 
to-night.  Throw  off  your  things  and  crawl  in." 

"But  that's  your  bed,"  Walton  protested,  thoughtful, 
even  in  his  misery,  of  his  friend's  comfort. 

"Not  for  to-night  it  isn't,"  Thomas  affirmed,  as  he 
hung  up  his  lantern  and  drew  a  stool  to  the  desk.  "  I've 
got  to  be  up  till  daybreak.  Crawl  in,  I  tell  you!" 

Walton  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  cot,  a  trembling 
s  55 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

hand  went  to  his  necktie.     In  the  rays  of  the  yellow  light 
he  looked  as  though  he  were  about  to  faint. 

"Hold  on,  wait!"  Thomas  chuckled.  "I'll  physic  you 
all  right."  He  raised  the  top  of  his  desk  and  drew  out 
a  flask  of  whiskey.  "  It  is  actually  the  smoothest  article 
that  ever  slid  down  a  human  throat,"  he  laughed,  as  he 
shook  the  flask  and  extended  it  to  his  guest.  "Take  a 
pull  at  it,  and  you  will  have  dreams  of  Paradise." 

"  I  don't  care  for  it  right  now,  Jack,"  Walton  returned. 
"  I  may  ask  for  it  later.  Whiskey  always  keeps  me 
awake." 

"Well,  I've  got. to  sit  up,"  the  conductor  said,  "so 
here's  looking  at  you.  I've  got  the  dandiest  thirst  that 
mortal  ever  owned.  You've  heard  about  the  feller  who 
told  the  prohibitionist  that  he  didn't  want  to  get  rid  of 
his.  Well,  I'm  that  way  about  mine.  If  a  man  went 
round  paying  for  thirsts,  he  couldn't  buy  mine  for  all  the 
money  in  the  State.  I've  got  it  trained  till  it  walks  a 
chalk-line.  I  go  without  a  drink  sometimes  for  days 
at  a  time,  just  so  she  will  get  good  and  ripe  and  have  a 
sort  of  clinging  rasp  on  her.  But  no  joking,  old  man,  I 
don't  like  your  looks.  I've  seen  you  kind  of  blue  before, 
but  I  never  saw  you  plumb  flabbergasted  like  this.  You 
say  you  are  broke.  I  don't  happen  to  have  anything  in 
my  pocket  right  now,  but  I  reckon  I  could  draw  a  little 
pay  in  advance  from  our  agent  in  Atlanta,  and — 

"  I  don't  want  to  borrow  any  money,  Jack,  thank 
you  just  the  same,"  Walton  said.  "When  I  get  to 
Atlanta  I'll  look  around  and  see  what  will  turn  up." 
And,  stifling  a  groan  of  despair,  he  sank  back  on  the  cot. 

"  All  right,  old  man,"  the  conductor  responded.  "  Now, 
go  to  sleep.  You  need  rest."  He  turned  the  wick  of 
the  lamp  down  and  pushed  his  lantern  into  a  corner,  so 
that  its  light  would  not  fall  on  the  face  of  his  guest. 
Then  he  slid  the  bench  to  the  open  door,  lighted  his  pipe, 
and  fell  into  a  revery. 

56 


CHAPTER  VII 

'HE  cot  was  hard  and  narrow,  and  it 
had  sides  of  unpadded  boards.  For 
hours  Fred  lay  pretending  to  be  asleep, 
that  he  might  shirk  the  sheer  torture  of 
conversation  with  his  friend.  Through 
partly  closed  eyelids  he  watched  the 
railroad  man  as  he  sat  in  the  doorway  looking  out  at 
the  rapidly  shifting  night  view.  When  a  station  was 
reached  the  conductor  would  spring  up,  and  with  his 
lantern  swinging  in  his  hand  he  would  descend  to  the 
ground  and  wave  his  light  or  call  out  an  order  to  a 
switchman  or  the  man  at  the  brakes.  Then  the  creak 
ing,  mechanical  reptile  would  crawl  along  and  speed 
away  again.  Several  times  the  miserable  passenger 
dozed  off  into  most  delectable  dreams.  In  them  he  was 
always  with  Margaret  in  some  fragrant  spot  among 
flowers,  by  flowing  streams,  and  in  wondrous  sunshine. 
Once  he  saw  General  Sylvester  and  his  grim  old  father 
in  congenial  converse  together,  while  he  and  Margaret 
stood  hand  in  hand  near  by,  and  then  his  beautiful, 
haughty  sweetheart  put  her  arms  about  the  grizzled  neck 
of  the  man  who  had  never  known  affection  and  kissed 
him.  But  she  was  fading  away,  as  was  the  erect  old 
soldier,  and  the  dreamer  found  himself  before  his  father 
at  the  old  man's  desk  in  the  bank.  And  now  Simon 
Walton's  face  was  dark  as  night.  A  ledger  lay  open 
before  him.  "  Five  thousand  dollars  of  my  hard-earned 
money!"  the  old  man  shrieked.  "  And  you  deliberately 

57 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

stole  it  from  my  vault!  Thief!  Thief!  Thief!"  Simon's 
lips  continued  to  move,  but  no  sound  save  a  dismal,  me 
chanical  rumbling  issued.  There  was  a  long  scream  of  the 
steam- whistle,  a  thunderous  bumping  of  cars  one  against 
another,  the  rasping  rattle  of  brake-chains,  a  glare  of 
yellow  light,  and  Fred  saw  Thomas  standing  over  him, 
his  lantern's  rays  thrown  downward. 

"In  the  yard  at  last,  old  chap,"  the  conductor  said, 
as  he  took  his  lantern  apart  and  blew  out  the  flame, 
"but  don't  you  get  up.  You  haven't  had  enough  sleep, 
and  it  is  only  five  o'clock.  You  didn't  rest  well  in  that 
blamed  bunk.  You  kept  rolling  and  jabbering  in  your 
sleep.  I've  got  to  run  up -town,  but  the  cab  will 
stand  right  here  on  the  side-track  all  day,  and  you  can 
leave  it  whenever  you  like.  I'll  be  about  the  general 
freight-office  till  noon,  and  if  you  want  me,  look  me 
up." 

"  All  right.  You  are  mighty  good,  Jack,"  the  wanderer 
said,  appalled  and  stupefied  by  his  sudden  awakening  to 
the  grim  reality  of  his  condition. 

When  the  conductor  had  left,  and  unable,  through 
sheer  mental  agony,  to  go  back  to  sleep,  Walton  crawled 
out  of  the  bunk  and  stood  up.  His  legs,  arms,  and  neck 
were  stiff,  and  twinges  of  pain  darted  through  his  mus 
cles  as  he  moved.  Standing  in  the  open  door,  he  looked 
out  over  the  vast  stretch  of  railway  tracks.  The  gray 
light  of  dawn  shrouded  everything.  Over  the  tops 
of  cars,  heaps  of  old  scrap-iron,  blinking  vari-colored 
signal-lights,  and  bridges  which  spanned  the  tracks  he 
saw  the  spectre-like  outlines  of  the  State  Capitol's  drab 
dome,  and  farther  to  the  left  the  tall  office-buildings  in 
the  centre  of  the  city. 

Just  then  a  man  came  round  the  end  of  the  car,  and, 
with  a  start  of  surprise,  recognized  him.  It  was  a  rail 
way  mail-carrier  who  had  once  lived  at  Stafford.  "  Why, 
hello,  Fred!"  he  cried,  rubbing  his  eyes,  for  he  had  just 

58 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

risen  from  his  bed.  "  What  are  you  doing  down  this  way 
at  break  of  day?" 

Walton  hesitated;  a  tinge  of  color  came  into  his  pale 
face. 

"  Ran  down  for  a  trip  with  Jack  Thomas,"  he  an 
swered;  "this  is  his  cab." 

"Oh  yes — I  see.     Where  is  Jack?" 

"Had  to  go  up-town." 

"  You  haven't  had  your  breakfast  yet,  I'll  bet.  Come 
on  and  take  a  snack  with  me.  There  is  a  good  all-night 
eating-house  up  by  the  Viaduct." 

"Thanks,  I've  got  to  hang  around  here  for  awhile." 

"Well,  so  long!"  the  man  said,  with  a  backward  look 
of  perplexity,  as  he  moved  away.  "  I'll  see  you  up 
town,  I  reckon." 

Walton  stood  down  on  the  ground  and  looked  about 
him;  then  he  saw  something  that  drove  him  back  into 
the  car.  It  was  a  policeman  in  uniform  a  hundred  yards 
away.  He  seemed  to  emerge  from  the  cattle-yard  on 
the  left,  and  was  walking  along  slowly,  looking  under 
cars  and  trying  their  sliding  doors.  He  would  stoop  to 
the  cross- ties  and  peer  carefully  at  the  trucks,  and 
move  on  again  to  repeat  the  process  at  each  car  of  the 
long  train,  the  engine  of  which  was  fired  for  leaving. 
Walton  sank  to  a  seat  on  the  cot ;  the  man  was  searching 
for  him.  There  would  be  no  escape.  Presently  a  feel 
ing  of  relief  came  to  him  in  the  reflection  that  his  fears 
were  ungrounded,  for  his  father,  not  having  read  the 
letter  he  had  left  on  his  desk,  could  not  yet  know  of  his 
flight.  The  old  man  never  went  to  the  bank  earlier 
than  eight  in  the  morning,  and  it  could  not  now  be  later 
than  five.  Yes,  the  officer  was  looking  for  some  one  else. 
The  fugitive  breathed  more  freely  for  a  few  minutes; 
then  another  shock  quickly  followed  the  first.  It  was 
now  plain — horribly  plain.  His  father,  having  sent  him 
to  the  bank  for  a  statement  of  his  account  the  evening 

59 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

before,  had  waited  up  for  him,  his  impatience  and  sus 
picion  growing  as  the  hours  passed.  Old  Simon  could 
not  have  slept  while  a  matter  of  that  nature  remained 
unsettled.  He  had  waited,  pacing  the  floor  of  his  room, 
till  nine;  till  ten;  till  eleven;  and  then,  full  of  gravest 
alarm  as  to  the  safety  of  his  funds,  he  had  gone  down 
to  the  bank  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  delay.  In  his 
mind's  eye,  Fred  saw  the  grim  old  financier  as  he  stalked 
muttering  through  the  silent  streets  of  the  slumbering 
town.  He  saw  him  open  the  big  door  of  the  bank,  and 
heard  his  disappointed  growl  as  he  faced  the  darkness. 
Old  Simon,  with  fumbling  hands,  found  and  struck  a 
match;  then  he  groped  his  way  back  to  his  office  and 
lighted  the  gas.  Fred  saw  him  as  he  stared  round  the 
room,  and,  with  the  gasp  of  an  animal,  pounced  on 
the  letter  he  had  written;  he  saw,  as  if  he  had  been  on 
the  spot,  the  distorted,  terrified  face  of  the  bewildered 
old  miser.  Then  what  had  he  done?  He  had  gone 
quaking  and  whimpering  to  the  home  of  the  sheriff 
near  by;  he  had  waked  the  officer  by  pounding  on  the 
door,  and  ordered  the  immediate  pursuit  of  his  son  as 
an  absconding  thief.  The  telegram  had  left  Stafford 
before  midnight;  it  had  passed  the  fugitive  as  he  slept, 
and  the  policeman  now  looking  under  the  cars  was  only 
one  of  scores  who  were  bent  upon  hunting  him  down. 
Yes,  it  was  all  over.  There  was  nothing  left  now  but 
to  be  taken  back  to  Stafford,  handcuffed  as  a  common 
felon.  He  crept  to  the  car  door  and  looked  out.  The 
policeman  had  paused  in  his  search,  and  was  coming 
directly  across  to  him.  A  feeling  of  odd  and  almost 
soothing  resignation  came  over  the  young  man;  at  any 
rate,  he  would  not  hide  like  a  coward.  He  was  guilty, 
and  he  would  take  his  punishment.  So  he  sank  upon 
the  bench  at  the  door  and  calmly  eyed  the  officer  as  he 
crossed  the  tracks,  playfully  swinging  the  polished  club 
which  was  strapped  to  his  wrist. 

60 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  Good-morning!"  the  man  said,  looking  up.  "  You  are 
not  the  conductor  of  this  train,  are  you?" 

"No,"  Fred  answered,  wonderingly;  "he's  just  gone 
up-town." 

The  policeman  swung  his  club.  "  Got  a  match  in  your 
pocket?  I  want  to  smoke  so  bad  I  can  taste  it." 

Walton  fumbled  in  his  pocket  and  produced  some 
matches,  and,  still  wondering,  he  reached  over  and  put 
them  into  the  extended  hand.  The  man  in  uniform 
was  young,  clear  of  skin  and  eye,  and  had  a  good  face 
— a  face  which  Walton  no  longer  dreaded,  which,  indeed, 
he  felt  that  he  could  like. 

"Tough  job  I'm  on  now,  you  can  bet  your  life,"  the 
policeman  said,  as  he  struck  the  match  on  the  iron 
ladder  of  the  car  and  applied  it  to  a  half-smoked  cigar. 

"What  sort  of  job  is  it?"  Walton  asked. 

"Why,  you  see,"  the  man  explained,  "the  railroads 
of  the  State  have  had  no  end  of  trouble  with  hoboes 
here  lately.  The  dirty  tramps  are  forever  stealing  rides. 
At  this  time  of  year  they  are  as  thick  as  flies  on  the  trucks, 
brakes,  and  bumpers.  They  fall  off  when  they  get  to 
sleep,  and  are  killed;  they  break  in  the  cars,  and  steal  the 
freight;  and  a  gang  of  them  have  been  known  to  throw 
rocks  at  the  train-crew,  and  raise  hell  generally.  So, 
as  a  last  resort,  the  roads  determined  to  make  cases 
against  every  one  that  could  be  caught,  and  they  are 
sending  them  up  by  the  hundreds,  and  for  good  long 
terms,  too.  They  are  never  able  to  pay  the  fines,  you 
see,  and  they  have  to  work  it  out  in  the  coal-mines  or 
turpentine  camps.  Now  and  then  a  big  mistake  is 
made,  of  course ;  for  many  a  good  man  has  been  sent  up 
for  only  trying  to  reach  a  place  where  he  could  get  honest 
employment.  But  the  law  is  no  respecter  of  persons. 
Let  a  man  without  money  to  pay  his  fine  be  caught 
stealing  a  ride  through  this  town,  and  nothing  in  God's 
world  will  save  him.  The  feathers  of  a  jail-bird  stick 

61 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

mighty  tight,  you  know,  and  after  one  gets  out  he  never 
makes  any  headway." 

"  They  are  not  well  treated,  either,  I  have  heard," 
Walton  put  in. 

"You  bet  they  are  not,"  the  policeman  said,  looking 
across  the  tracks.  "  Gee !  did  you  see  that  ?  I  think  I've 
got  one  now.  I  saw  a  fellow  peep  out  right  over  there." 

He  darted  off,  club  in  hand,  and  Walton  saw  him 
disappear  between  two  cars,  and  heard  his  stern  voice 
cry:  "Come  out  of  there,  young  man!  Don't  make  me 
crawl  under  after  you!  Come  on,  the  game  is  up!" 

Walton  descended  to  the  ground  and  crossed  over  to 
the  policeman  just  as  a  young  man  with  a  grimy  face 
and  tousled  hair  emerged  from  behind  the  heavy  wheels. 
He  did  not  appear  to  be  more  than  twenty  years  of 
age,  and  his  clothing,  even  to  his  hat  and  necktie,  indi 
cated  that  he  was  not  an  ordinary  tramp.  He  stared 
in  a  bewildered  way  at  the  blue  coat,  brass  buttons,  and 
helmet-shaped  hat. 

"For  God's  sake,  don't  send  me  up,  policeman!"  he 
pleaded,  in  a  piteous  tone.  "  I  am  out  of  money,  and 
want  to  get  through  by  way  of  New  Orleans  to  Okla 
homa.  I  am  out  of  work  and  trying  to  reach  Gate  City, 
where  I  can  get  a  job." 

"  I've  got  nothing  to  do  with  that,"  the  policeman 
said,  curtly.  "  I'm  put  here  to  arrest  you  fellows — 
that's  my  duty,  and  I've  caught  you  in  the  act." 

"O  God,  have  mercy!"  Walton  heard  the  boy  mut 
tering  to  himself.  "I  can't  stand  it!  I'd  rather  die, 
and  be  done  with  it!" 

He  looked  at  the  officer  again,  and  his  lips  seemed  to 
be  trying  to  frame  some  further  appeal,  but,  as  if  realiz 
ing  the  utter  futility  of  such  a  course,  he  simply  hung  his 
head  and  was  silent. 

Walton,  who  liked  the  boy's  looks,  suddenly  felt  a 
rebellious  impulse  rise  and  struggle  within  him.  It 

62 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

was  the  quality  which,  in  spite  of  his  faults,  had  en 
deared  him  to  his  many  friends. 

"  Look  here,  old  man,"  he  said  to  the  policeman,  "law 
or  no  law,  duty  or  no  duty,  you  can't  take  the  responsi 
bility  of  this  thing  on  your  shoulders.  I'm  a  fair  judge 
of  men,  and  I  am  sure  it  would  be  wrong  to  send  this 
boy  up.  You  know  he  is  only  doing  what  you  or  I 
would  do  if  hard  luck  drove  us  to  it.  Say,  old  man,  I'm 
dead  broke  myself,  I  haven't  a  dollar  in  my  pocket,  and 
I  am  out  of  a  job  besides;  but  I've  got  a  good  solid  gold 
watch  in  my  pocket,  and  if  you  will  let  him  go  I'll  give 
it  to  you." 

The  officer  wavered;  he  stared,  speechless,  for  a  mo 
ment,  colored  high,  then  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  reckon  my  duty  does  allow  me  to  sorter  dis 
criminate,"  he  faltered.  "  I  haven't  seen  the  chap 
actually  riding,  either.  But  I  won't  take  any  bribes — 
I  wouldn't  take  one  from  you,  anyway.  You  are  about 
as  white  a  chap  as  I've  run  across  in  many  a  day,  and 
I'm  going  to  drop  the  dang  thing.  God  knows,  I  don't 
want  your  watch!  But,  say,  don't  get  me  into  trouble. 
I've  got  a  family  to  support,  and  I  must  hold  my  job. 
Get  the  fellow  out  of  the  freight-yards  before  the  town 
wakes  up.  There  are  cops  on  our  force  who  would  drag 
him  in  by  the  heels.  Car-grease  like  he's  got  smeared 
all  over  him  is  a  dead  give-away.  Say,  young  man,  take 
a  fool's  advice:  get  out  on  the  country  roads.  You'll 
make  it  all  right  among  the  farms." 

"You  won't  take  the  watch,  then?"  Fred  held  the 
timepiece  toward  him,  its  golden  chain  swinging. 

"  No,  I  don't  want  it.  But  hurry  up !  Get  him  out  of 
the  yards!" 

"Come  on,  and  I'll  show  you  the  way,"  Walton  said 
to  the  boy,  when  the  officer  had  gone.  And  without  a 
word,  so  overjoyed  was  he  by  the  sudden  turn  in  his 
favor,  the  begrimed  youth  dumbly  followed  his  rescuer 

63 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

across  the  tracks  to  a  quiet  little  street  bordered  by 
diminutive  cottages. 

On  they  trudged  through  street  after  street  till,  just 
as  the  first  rays  of  sunlight  were  breaking  through  the 
clouds,  they  found  the  open  country  before  them.  For 
miles  and  miles  it  stretched  away  to  blue  hills  in  the 
vague,  misty  distance. 

"  I  can  make  out  all  right  now,"  the  boy  said,  with  a 
grateful  glance  at  his  rescuer,  as  they  paused.  "  I  don't 
want  to  take  you  farther  out  of  your  way.  God  knows, 
I'll  not  forget  your  kindness  till  my  dying  day.  You 
don't  know  what  you've  saved  me  from.  I'd  have 
killed  myself  rather  than  be  sent  up.  I've  heard  what 
those  places  are  like.  If  you  will  tell  me  your  name 
and  where  your  home  is,  I'll  write  back  to  you." 

Walton's  eyes  met  those  of  his  companion.  "Huh!" 
he  said,  gloomily,  "  I'm  as  homeless  as  you  are,  my  boy. 
The  truth  is,  I  don't  know  where  to  turn,  myself,  and 
really  the  thought  of  parting  with  you,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  hurts  me.  I  need  a  companion  worse  than  I 
ever  did  in  my  life.  Say,  will  you  let  me  go  with  you?" 

"  Will  I?"  and  the  grimy  face  filled  with  emotion,  the 
big  brown  eyes  glistened  with  unshed  tears.  "  God 
knows,  I'd  rather  have  you  than  any  one  else,  and  I  cer 
tainly  am  lonely  enough!"  The  blackened  hand  went 
out  and  clasped  Walton's,  and,  face  to  face,  these  new 
friends  in  adversity  stood  and  silently  vowed  fidelity. 

"What  is  your  name?"  Fred  asked. 

"Dick  Warren,"  the  younger  said.  "I  am  from 
Kentucky — Louisville.  I've  got  no  close  kin,  and  no 
money.  I  was  a  telegraph  operator  in  Memphis  till  a 
month  ago,  but  lost  my  job.  Long-distance  telephone 
is  killing  my  business.  I  heard  of  Gate  City — they  say 
it  is  booming.  I  want  to  go  there." 

"  I'll  join  you,"  Walton  said.  "  I've  heard  of  it,  too. 
Those  new  towns  are  all  right." 

64 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"You  didn't  tell  me  your  name,"  Dick  suggested. 

"Oh,  I  forgot;  why,  it's  Fred — it's  Frederic  Spencer." 
He  had  given  the  seldom-used  part  of  his  Christian  name, 
that  of  his  maternal  grandfather.  "  Some  day  I'll  tell 
you  all  about  myself,  but  not  now — not  now.  Are  you 
hungry,  Dick?" 

The  boy  nodded  slowly.  It  looked  as  if  he  were  afraid 
that  an  admission  of  the  whole  truth  might  further  dis 
commode  his  new  friend.  "A  little  bit,"  he  said,  "but 
I  can  make  out  for  a  while." 

"We'll  try  a  farm-house  farther  on,"  Walton  said, 
with  an  appreciative  glance  at  the  weary  face  before 
him.  "I'll  have  to  have  a  cup  of  coffee  or  I'll  drop  in 
my  tracks." 

The  sun,  now  above  the  tree-tops,  was  beginning  to 
beat  fiercely  upon  them,  and  threatening  much  in  the 
way  of  heat  and  sultry  temperature  later  in  the  day. 
The  activity  of  his  mind  and  sympathies  in  behalf  of  his 
companion  had  in  a  measure  dulled  Walton's  sense  of  his 
own  condition,  but  as  he  trudged  along  by  his  companion 
the  whole  circumstance  of  his  flight  and  the  far-reach 
ing  consequences  of  his  act  came  upon  him  anew.  The 
agony  within  him  now  seemed  to  ooze  from  his  body  like 
a  material  substance,  clogging  his  utterance  and  shack 
ling  his  feet. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

>HAT  morning,  about  nine  o'clock,  old 
Simon  Walton  rode  down  to  his  bank 
in  the  one-horse  buggy  of  antiquated 
type  which  had  come  into  his  posses 
sion  years  before  in  the  foreclosure  of  a 
mortgage  given  by  a  poor  farmer,  and 
which,  with  its  rusty  springs  and  uncouth  appearance, 
was  quite  in  keeping  with  the  character  of  its  present 
owner. 

The  bookkeepers  were  busy  at  their  special  duties, 
and  scarcely  gave  him  a  glance  over  their  ponderous 
ledgers  as  he  came  in  at  the  front  and  walked  to  his  desk 
in  the  rear.  Hanging  up  his  old  slouch  hat,  and  seating 
himself  in  his  big  revolving  chair,  his  eyes  fell  on  a  stack 
of  letters  addressed  to  him.  Rapidly  shifting  them 
through  his  stiff  ringers,  his  attention  was  drawn  to  the 
only  one  which  bore  no  stamp  or  postmark.  He  recog 
nized  the  writing,  and  as  he  held  it  frowningly  before 
him,  his  confidential  clerk,  Toby  Lassiter,  a  colorless 
and  bald  young  man  of  medium  height,  sparse  mutton- 
chop  whiskers,  and  soft,  shrinking  gray  eyes,  entered 
with  a  slip  of  paper. 

"  The  cotton  quotations  you  wanted,  Mr.  Walton,"  he 
said,  in  the  discreet  tone  he  used  to  the  banker  on  all 
occasions,  lest  he  might  by  accident  expose  to  other  ears 
matters  his  cautious  master  wished  to  be  kept  private. 
"  Oh  yes."  Then,  as  Lassiter  was  softly  slipping  away: 
"  But  hold  on,  Toby !  Have  you  seen  Fred  this  morning  ?" 

66 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  No,  sir,  he  hasn't  been  around  yet.  In  fact,  Mr. 
Walton,  I  wanted  to  ask  you.  Only  three  of  us  carry 
keys  to  the  front  door — you  and  me  and  Fred ;  and  when 
I  was  opening  up  this  morning  I  found  that  somebody 
had  pushed  one  of  them  under  the  door." 

"Well,  I've  got  mine,"  old  Simon  said,  with  a  slow, 
wondering  stare.  "Oh,  wait!  this  note  is  from  him; 
maybe  he —  The  banker,  with  fumbling  fingers,  tore 
open  the  envelope  and  began  to  read.  The  waiting  clerk 
heard  him  utter  a  gasp.  It  was  followed  by  a  low,  sub 
dued  groan,  and  looking  like  a  corpse  momentarily  elec 
trified  into  a  semblance  of  life,  the  old  man  rose  to  his 
feet,  the  half-read  confession  clutched  in  his  sinewy  fingers. 

"He's  gone!"  he  gasped.  "He's  taken  five  thousand 
dollars  of  the  bank's  funds,  and  made  off!" 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Walton,  do,  do  be  quiet !"  Lassiter  whispered, 
warningly,  as  he  laid  his  hands  on  the  arms  of  his  em 
ployer,  and  gently  urged  him  to  sit  down.  The  banker 
obeyed  as  an  automaton  might,  his  wrinkled  face  be 
neath  his  shaggy  eyebrows  wildly  distorted,  his  lips 
parted,  showing  his  yellow  jagged  teeth,  his  breath  com 
ing  and  going  in  spasmodic  gasps.  Every  hair  on  his 
head  seemed  to  stand  dry  and  harsh  by  itself  as  he  ran 
his  prong-like  fingers  upward  through  the  bushy  mass. 

"Five  thousand — five  thousand — five  thousand!"  he 
groaned;  "  the  low,  ungrateful  thief;  and  at  a  time  when 
he  knew  it  would  hamper  us  and  maybe  bring  on  a  crash. 
Look  y'  here,  Toby,  and  be  quick  about  it!  Run  and 
get  the  sheriff — if  you  can't  find  him  fetch  the  deputy! 
Then  see  if  the  telegraph  office  is  open.  I'll  jail  that 
scamp  before  night!  I  want  my  money!  I  want  my 
money !  He's  no  son  of  mine !  I  gave  him  fair  warning, 
as  you  know,  to  let  up  in  his  damnable  course,  and  he 
snapped  his  card-flipping  fingers  in  my  face.  Hurry 
up!  He  can't  be  far  off;  we'll  nab  him  before  the  day 
is  over.  Run!" 

67 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

But  the  clerk  lingered.  "Mr.  Walton,"  he  began, 
falteringly,  "  I  never  have  refused  to  obey  your  orders, 
but  Fred  ain't  quite  as  bad  as — really,  you  oughtn't  to 
handle  the  boy  that  way.  He's  been  a  good  friend  to 
me,  and  I'd  hate  to  think  I'd  stand  by  and  see  you  take 
a  step  like  this,  mad  as  you  are,  when  if  you'd  only  be 
calm  a  minute,  surely  you'd  realize — " 

"  Am  I  the  head  of  this  bank  or  you  ?"  old  Walton 
broke  in,  as  he  rose  and  stood  quivering  and  clinging 
with  both  hands  to  the  back  of  his  unsteady  chair. 
"  Go  and  do  as  I  tell  you,  or,  by  the  God  over  our  heads, 
I'll  send  you  about  your  business!" 

"All  right,  Mr.  Walton,"  the  clerk  yielded,  "I'll 
do  it!" 

White  as  death  could  have  made  him,  Lassiter  passed 
out  at  a  door  on  the  side  of  the  building  and  gained  the 
street  without  being  seen  by  the  workers  in  the  counting- 
room. 

"  Poor  Fred!"  he  muttered.  "  He's  too  good  at  heart 
to  be  treated  this  way,  and  he's  not  a  real  thief,  either. 
Folks  have  told  him  all  his  life  that  he  had  a  right  to 
more  of  the  old  man's  money  than  he  was  getting,  and 
he  didn't  think  it  was  stealing." 

On  a  corner  he  saw  Bill  Johnston,  the  sheriff,  a  man 
about  forty-five  years  of  age,  who  wore  great  heavy  top- 
boots,  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  and  had  sharp  brown  eyes 
and  a  waxed  and  twisted  mustache.  With  considerable 
reluctance,  Toby  went  up  to  him. 

"  Mr.  Walton  wants  to  see  you,  Bill,"  he  said.  "  He's 
in  his  office  in  the  bank." 

"  Well,  I  can't  come  for  ten  minutes  yet,  anyway,"  the 
sheriff  said,  not  removing  his  steady  gaze  from  a  group 
of  men  round  a  mountain  wagon  in  a  vacant  lot  across 
the  street,  where,  on  a  high  hoarding  of  planks,  glaring 
new  circus  bills  were  posted.  "The  boys  are  about  to 
smell  out  a  keg  of  wild-cat  whiskey  in  that  gang  of  moss- 

68 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

backs.  They  may  need  me  any  minute.  Tell  the  old 
man  I'll  be  along  as  soon  as  I  can." 

Lassiter  went  back  to  the  bank  and  gained  his  em 
ployer's  presence  without  attracting  the  attention  of 
any  of  the  clerks.  He  found  the  shaggy  head  prone  on 
the  desk,  the  long  arms  hanging  down  at  either  side. 
For  a  moment  Toby  thought  the  banker  was  a  victim 
of  heart- failure,  and  stood  stricken  with  horror.  But 
he  was  reassured  by  a  low  groan  from  the  almost  inert 
human  mass. 

"Good  Lord,"  he  heard  the  banker  praying,  "scourge 
him!  Don't  heed  his  cries  and  promises!  He  has  lied 
to  me,  he'll  lie  to  you!"  Therewith  Simon  raised  his 
blearing  eyes,  now  fixed  and  bloodshot  in  their  sockets. 

"Well?"  he  growled,  impatiently. 

"Johnston  is  coming  right  away,"  Lassiter  said,  and 
he  approached  the  old  man  and  leaned  over  him.  "  Mr. 
Walton,  once  when  you  were  very  mad  with  the  other 
bank,  you  remember,  and  was  about  to  take  action 
against  them,  I  got  your  ear,  and  showed  you  that  in 
a  suit  at  court  you'd  have  to  make  certain  showings  of 
a  private  nature  that  would  injure  our  interests,  and  you 
admitted  that  I  was  right,  and — and  decided  to  let  the 
matter  blow  over.  You've  said  several  times  since  then 
that  I  was  right,  and — 

"Well,  what  the  devil  has  that  got  to  do  with  this?" 
Walton  thundered. 

"  I'll  tell  you,  Mr.  Walton — now  wait  one  minute,  just 
one  minute,"  Lassiter  urged:  "you  know  how  excitable 
depositors  are.  Don't  you  see  if  the  report  goes  out 
that  you  have  actually  turned  Fred  over  to  the  law  for 
a  big  defalcation  that  folks  will  get  the  impression  that 
you  are  in  a  shaky  condition?  The  other  bank  would 
make  it  appear  ten  times  as  bad  as  it  is,  and  we  might 
have  a  frightful  run  on  us.  We  are  all  right,  solid 
enough,  the  Lord  knows,  but  money — ready  money — is 

69 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

hard  to  get.  There  never  has  been  a  time  when  it  would 
be  as  hard  to  stand  under  a  run  as  right  now.  We  are 
getting  ahead  of  the  other  bank,  and  they  are  as  mad  as 
Tucker.  They  wouldn't  want  anything  better  than  a 
chance  like  this  to — " 

"You  mean? — great  God,  Toby,  you  are  right!  It 
would  ruin  us — absolutely  wreck  us!  I  see  it — I  see  it 
as  plain  as  day!" 

There  was  a  sound  of  heavy  steps  in  the  corridor 
outside. 

"It  is  the  sheriff,"  Toby  whispered,  "but  I  didn't  tell 
him  what  you  wanted.  Don't  act  now,  Mr.  Walton; 
for  God's  sake,  don't!" 

"Tell  him  to  wait  a  minute,"  the  banker  panted.  But 
it  was  too  late;  the  sheriff,  with  his  usual  lack  of  cere 
mony,  was  already  pushing  the  door  open. 

"Hello,  old  man!"  Johnston  said,  and  he  came  in 
with  a  swinging  stride.  "  I  hope  you  are  not  scared 
about  what  I  owe  you;  I'll  get  it  up  all  right.  Money  is 
owing  to  me,  and — " 

"No,  it  wasn't  that — it  wasn't  that."  Walton's  rigid 
face  was  forced  into  a  smile  that  fairly  distorted  it  and 
set  the  observant  officer  wondering.  "  The  truth  is, 
Johnston,  I  thought  I  needed  your  services,  but  I  find 
I'm  mistaken.  That's  all,  Johnston,  I  was  mistaken. 
I've  decided  to  let  it  pass — to  let  it  pass,  you  know." 

"  All  right,  old  man,"  the  sheriff  replied,  as  his  puzzled 
glance  swept  the  two  disturbed  faces  before  him.  "  I 
don't  care  just  so  you  don't  garnishee  my  salary  for  what 
I  owe  you." 

Outside,  as  he  joined  a  group  of  idlers  on  the  corner, 
he  remarked,  with  a  broad,  knowing  smile  and  a  twinkle 
of  the  eye:  "That  old  note-shaver  in  there  thinks  he  can 
fool  me.  He  sent  Toby  Lassiter  out  just  now  as  white  as 
a  preacher's  Sunday  shirt  to  ask  me  to  see  him.  I  found 
him  looking  like  a  staring  idiot,  and  was  informed  that  it 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

was  a  false  alarm.  False  nothing!  I'll  give  you  boys  a 
tip.  I'll  bet  that  gay  and  festive  Fred  is  up  to  some  fresh 
devilment.  You  watch  out  and  you'll  hear  something 
drop,  if  I  am  any  judge.  I  saw  Fred  last  night  headed 
for  the  railroad.  He  didn't  see  me.  I  was  hiding  be 
hind  a  fence,  watching  him.  I  think  he  boarded  a 
freight-train;  I  am  not  sure." 

6 


CHAPTER  IX 

!S  was  only  natural  in  a  town  of  the 
size  of  Stafford,  the  sudden  departure  of 
Fred  Walton,  under  circumstances  no 
one  seemed  able  to  explain,  caused  wide 
and  growing  comment.  A  railroad  man 
who  had  returned  from  Atlanta  informed 
an  eager  cluster  of  idlers  in  the  big  office  of  the  main 
hotel  of  the  place  that  Fred  had  been  seen  lurking 
about  the  freight-yards  in  the  city  at  early  daylight, 
evidently  trying  to  avoid  being  seen.  The  report  went 
out,  too — and  no  less  authority  accompanied  it  than 
the  word  of  Fred's  stepmother,  who,  admitting  the  fact 
that  she  hated  the  young  man,  could  not  be  charged  with 
originating  a  direct  lie — that  Fred  had  gone  without 
"  a  thread  to  wear,"  except  what  he  had  on  when  leaving. 
The  town  did  not  need  to  be  told  that  in  that  detail  alone 
lay  ample  evidence  of  the  gravity  of  the  case,  even  if  it 
were  not  said — on  good  authority,  too — that  old  Simon 
Walton,  immediately  on  discovering  the  flight,  had  called 
in  Bill  Johnston  to  consult  with  him.  Had  he  taken 
away  money?  That  was  the  question  designedly  put  by 
Walton's  business  rivals,  and  that  was  the  question 
which  one  and  all  declared  the  old  man  and  Toby  Lassiter 
had  promptly  denied.  No,  it  was  something  else;  that 
was  quite  plain. 

Mrs.  Barry  heard  the  news  at  the  fence  the  next  after 
noon  from  the  voluble  tongue  of  a  poor  washerwoman, 
a  Mrs.  Chumley,  who,  since  the  downfall  of  her  only 

72 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

daughter,  and  the  handsome  girl's  adoption  of  a  life  of 
prostitution  in  Augusta,  had  lived  on  alone  in  a  cottage 
adjoining  Mrs.  Barry's,  and  who,  as  she  cleansed  the 
linen  of  her  neighbors  for  a  living,  besmirched  their 
characters  as  her  only  available  solace.  She  was  fond 
of  hinting  darkly  that  if  disgrace  had  come  to  her  family 
by  discovery,  it  hovered — ready  to  drop  at  any  minute — 
over  the  heads  of  people  not  a  bit  better,  and  who  were 
far  too  stuck-up  for  their  own  safety. 

"You  certainly  ought  to  be  glad  the  scamp's  gone," 
she  remarked  to  Mrs.  Barry,  as  she  leaned  her  bare, 
crinkled  arms  on  the  fence  when  she  unctuously  told  the 
news.  "  I  never  liked  to  see  him  hanging  round  Dora. 
A  body  would  see  him  one  day  over  there  at  that  big  fine 
house  with  Miss  Margaret,  whose  high-priced  ruffles  I've 
got  in  the  tub  right  now,  and  the  next  bending  his  head 
to  enter  your  lowly  door.  Things  as  wide  apart  as  them 
two  naturally  are  won't  hitch,  neighbor,  that's  all — they 
won't  hitch." 

"Yes,  I'm  glad  he's  gone,"  Mrs.  Barry  admitted,  with 
the  indiscretion  most  persons  had  under  the  plausible 
eye  and  guiding  tone  of  the  gossip.  "  Dora  says  he  had 
a  kind  heart,  and  that  she's  sorry  for  him  in  all  his  ups  and 
downs;  but,  as  you  say,  no  good  could  come  of  their  being 
together  so  much,  at  least,  and  it  is  better  to  have  it  end." 

"The  postman  left  a  letter  for  you-all  this  morning, 
didn't  he?"  was  a  question  Mrs.  Chumley  had  evidently 
been  holding  in  reserve. 

"  No,  there  wasn't  anything.  Dora  went  out  to  the 
fence  to  see  if  he  had  any  mail,  but  he  didn't." 

"Huh,  that's  strange!"  Mrs.  Chumley's  purposely 
averted  glance  came  back  to  the  wrinkled  face  of  her 
neighbor,  and  remained  fixed  there  in  a  direct  and  prob 
ing  stare.  "That's  queer,  for  I  certainly  saw  him  hand 
her  a  letter  over  the  fence  as  plain  as  I  see  that  tub  of 
suds.  I  saw  her  reading  it,  too." 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"You  must  be  mistaken."  Mrs.  Barry's  face  had 
changed.  There  were  splotches  of  pallor  in  her  gaunt 
cheeks. 

"  No,  I  couldn't  be.  I  don't  make  mistakes  in  things 
of  that  sort — not  of  that  sort." 

Mrs.  Barry  was  silent.  She  was  forced  to  admit  that 
if  any  pair  of  earthly  eyes  could  detect  a  hidden  thing 
those  eyes  were  now  eagerly  blinking  under  the  sinister 
brows  before  her.  As  she  stared  into  the  reddish, 
freckled  face,  certain  long-subdued  fears  rose  within  her. 
She  felt  faint,  and  had  a  sensation  as  if  all  visible  ob 
jects  were  whirling  around  her.  Then  she  became 
anchored  by  something  in  the  gossip's  glance  which,  had 
she  has  been  less  afraid,  she  would  have  taken  as  direct 
insult.  It  was  as  if  the  washerwoman  were  saying: 
"Well,  you  know  I  can  sympathize  with  you.  I  have 
been  through  it  all." 

"  She  came  back  in  the  house  after  the  postman  had 
gone  on,"  Mrs.  Barry  faltered,  "  and  told  me  there  wasn't 
any  letter." 

The  poor  woman  felt  that  her  defence,  if  defence  it 
might  be  called,  was  falling  on  wilfully  closed  ears,  and 
again  she  was  conscious  of  that  rocking,  floating  sensa 
tion.  The  round,  red  visage  of  the  washerwoman 
seemed  to  recede  from  her;  there  was  a  sound  as  of  roar 
ing  water  in  her  ears.  But  through  it  all  the  insistent 
voice  of  her  tormentor  beat  into  .her  consciousness. 

"If  she  didn't  show  it  to  you,  she  hid  it;  I'm  dead 
sure  of  that.  She  hid  it.  I  have  been  watching  your 
girl,  Mrs.  Barry,  for  several  weeks,  and  I'm  free  to  say 
that  something  has  gone  wrong  with  her.  A  body  can 
see  it  in  the  drooping  way  she  has  in  moving  about. 
The  day  you  sent  her  over  for  the  salt  I  thought,  on  my 
soul,  she'd  drop  in  her  tracks  before  she  left  the  kitchen. 
Maybe  the  letter  was  to  tell  her  where  the  scamp  was 
going,  or — or — well,  there  could  be  lots  a  fellow  like 

74 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

that  might  say  at  such  a  time.     But  I'll  be  bound,  he 
was  putting  her  off.    They  all  do.    It  is  man-nature." 

"  I  am  sure  she  didn't  get  any  letter,"  Mrs.  Barry  said, 
and  she  now  tore  herself  away,  conscious  of  her  over 
whelming  disadvantage  in  the  adroit  woman's  hands. 

"Well,  you'll  find  out  I'm  right,"  was  the  shot  which 
struck  her  in  the  back  as  she  turned  the  corner  of  the 
cottage.  "  If  you  don't  believe  me,  you  can  ask  the 
postman;  there  he  is — coming  down  the  street  right 
now." 

But  Mrs.  Barry  did  not  pause.  She  went  into  the 
house  and  closed  her  door.  She  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  room  like  a  creature  deprived  of  animation.  Through 
the  parted  curtains  of  an  open  window  she  heard  the 
washerwoman  call  out  to  the  man  in  uniform: 

"  I  just  had  a  bet  up  with  Mrs.  Barry,  Sim  Carter.  She 
must  think  I'm  blind.  I  told  her  you  left  a  letter  at 
her  house  this  morning,  and  she  says  she  never  saw  hair 
nor  hide  of  it." 

"It  is  there  all  right,"  the  man  laughed.  "I  gave  it 
to  Miss  Dora." 

"That's  what  I  told  her.  I  say,  Sim  Carter,  have 
they  heard  anything  more  yet  about —  But  the  post 
man  was  gone. 

Through  the  window,  by  stooping  and  peering  forth, 
Mrs.  Barry  could  see  him  crossing  the  street  to  the  next 
house.  With  a  heart  as  heavy  as  lead  she  went  into 
the  parlor;  Dora  was  not  there.  She  passed  on  to  the 
kitchen ;  no  one  was  there,  either.  There  was  something 
incongruous  in  the  contented  aspect  of  the  fat,  gray  cat 
lying  and  purring  in  the  sunlight  on  the  door-sill.  Bliss 
like  that  under  the  coat  of  a  mere  dumb  brute  when  she 
had  this  to  bear — this  lurking,  insinuating,  maddening 
thing,  which  had  been  creeping  slowly  upon  her  night 
and  day  until  it  had  assumed  the  shape  and  size  of  a 
monster  of  mental  and  spiritual  torture. 

75 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

She  went  on  to  Dora's  room,  where  she  found  the  girl 
seated  on  her  bed.  The  great,  long-lashed,  somnolent 
eyes,  over  the  exquisite  beauty  of  which  men  and  women 
had  marvelled,  were  red  as  from  weeping.  She  gave 
her  mother,  as  the  old  woman  stood  in  the  doorway,  a 
weary,  despondent  glance,  and  then,  half  startled,  looked 
down.  Mrs.  Barry  saw  the  charred  remains  of  a  sheet 
of  writing-paper  in  the  open  fireplace,  and  a  fresh  pang 
darted  through  her. 

"Did  you  need  me,  mother?"  Dora  inquired,  softly, 
in  the  musical  voice  so  many  had  admired,  and  which 
to-day  sounded  sweeter,  more  appealing,  than  ever 
before. 

"  Mrs.  Chumley  says  you  got  a  letter  from  the  postman 
this  morning,"  Mrs.  Barry  said,  tremblingly. 

The  girl  seemed  to  hesitate  just  an  instant;  then  she 
nodded,  mutely. 

"Who  was  it  from,  daughter?" 

"  Mother,  I  don't  want  to  say — even  to  you.  I  have 
reasons  why — " 

"  It  was  from  Fred  Walton!    You  need  not  deny  it." 

Dora  made  no  protest;  she  simply  dropped  her  eyes 
to  her  lap,  and  sat  motionless. 

"You  knew  he  had  left,  didn't  you?" 

"  Yes,  mother.     I  knew  he  was  gone." 

"  And  while  the  whole  town  is  wondering  why  he  went, 
you  know,  I  suppose?" 

"I  don't  feel  that  I  have  the  right  to  talk  about  it, 
mother." 

"Well,  I  sha'n't  urge  you!"  And  the  older  woman 
shambled  away,  now  bearing  doubts  which  were  heavier 
and  more  maddening  than  ever. 

"Something's  wrong — very,  very  wrong  —  or  she 
wouldn't  droop  like  that,"  she  said.  "Oh,  God  have 
mercy,  I'm  actually  afraid  to  question  my  own  child !  I 
am  afraid  to  even  do  that!" 

76 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

The  sun  went  down,  the  night  came  on;  working  men, 
women,  and  children  passed  along  on  their  homeward 
way  from  the  cotton  and  wollen  mills,  carrying  their 
dinner-pails.  The  very  cheerfulness  of  their  faces, 
lightness  of  step,  and  merry  jesting  with  one  another 
sent  shafts  of  misery  to  the  heart  of  the  brooding 
woman.  When  she  had  put  the  supper  on  the  table 
she  went  to  the  daughter's  room  and  told  her  it  was 
ready. 

"  Some  of  your  art  pupils  came  to  the  gate  just  now, 
didn't  they?"  she  inquired. 

"Yes,"  the  girl  answered.  "Sally  and  Mary  Hill 
wanted  to  know  if  Td  go  sketching  with  them  to  the 
swamp  to-morrow  afternoon." 

"And  are  you  going?" 

"I  told  them  I'd  let  them  know  in  the  morning." 
Dora  was  at  her  place  at  the  side  of  the  table,  and  she 
felt  her  mother's  despondent  gaze  turned  on  her. 

"  You  told  them  you'd  let  them  know!  Why,  don't  you 
know  already  ?  I  thought  you  liked  to  go  out  that  way. 
Some  of  your  best  studies  were  made  at  the  swamp." 

"I  was  feeling  so  badly,"  the  girl  sighed,  "that  I 
didn't  have  the  heart  to  promise.  I  can  never  work  to 
any  advantage  if  I  am  not  in  the  mood  for  it." 

"  Oh!  that  is  it!"  They  both  sat  down.  "  You  ought 
to  fight  against  languor  at  this  time  of  the  year.  I  never 
let  an  ache  or  pain  keep  me  from  work.  Sometimes 
merely  being  busy  seems  to  help  one.  Your  father  used 
to  stick  at  his  easel  as  long  as  the  light  would  hold  out. 
He  used  to  say  the  time  would  come  when  the  whole 
world  would  admire  your  painting,  and  you  really  are 
improving." 

Dora  sighed,  but  said  nothing. 

Mrs.  Barry  passed  her  a  cup  of  coffee.  "  Here,  drink 
this  down  while  it  is  hot,"  she  advised.  "  I  made  it 
strong.  It  will  do  you  good." 

77 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Thank  you,  mother,  you  are  very  kind  to  me." 

Dora  drank  some  of  the  coffee,  and  daintily  munched 
a  piece  of  buttered  toast.  In  the  afternoon  light,  which 
fell  through  a  western  window,  Mrs.  Barry  saw  a  deeply 
troubled  look  on  the  wan  face — a  certain  nervous  twitch 
ing  of  the  tapering  fingers. 

Presently  Dora  pushed  back  her  chair  and  rose. 

"  I  don't  care  for  anything  else,"  she  said,  avoiding 
her  mother's  eyes. 

"  But  you  haven't  eaten  anything  at  all,"  Mrs.  Barry 
protested,  anxiously. 

"  I  can't  eat — I  simply  can't,"  Dora  said,  with  strange 
and  desperate  frankness.  "  I'm  too  miserable.  Oh, 
mother,  mother,  pity  me!  pity  me!" 

Mrs.  Barry  sat  motionless,  her  head,  with  its  scant 
hair,  now  supported  by  her  two  sinewy  hands.  She  saw 
her  daughter  turn  away,  and,  with  dragging  feet,  go  on 
to  her  bedroom. 

"God,  have  mercy!"  she  moaned.  "She's  as  good  as 
admitted  it.  What  else  could  she  have  meant?  Oh, 
God,  what  else — what  else?  She  must  know  what  I  am 
afraid  of.  Oh,  my  baby! — my  poor,  poor  baby!" 

She  rose  from  her  untasted  meal  and  followed  her 
child,  not  noticing,  in  the  gathering  dusk,  that  Mrs. 
Chumley  had  entered  the  outer  door,  and  was  treading 
softly  and  with  bated  breath  in  her  wake.  She  found 
the  girl  standing  at  a  window,  dumb  and  pale,  looking 
out  into  the  yard. 

"You  must  tell  me  everything,  daughter,"  Mrs.  Barry 
said.  "  I  can't  sleep  to-night  unless  you  do.  I  am 
afraid  I  am  going  mad.  Tell  me,  tell  me!" 

"Oh,  mother,  mother,  how  can  I?" 

"You  are  ruined!"  Mrs.  Barry  groaned.  "Tell  me  I 
am  right — you  are  ruined!" 

With  a  cry,  Dora  turned  and  threw  herself  on  the  bed, 
and  with  her  face  hidden  in  a  pillow  she  burst  into  dry  sobs. 

78 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Make  her  tell  you  the  whole  thing,"  Mrs.  Chumley 
spoke  up,  as  she  stood  in  the  doorway.  "  Have  it  out 
of  her,  and  be  done  with  it;  that's  the  course  I  took." 

Mrs.  Barry  turned  upon  her,  but  no  anger  or  resent 
ment  over  the  intrusion  stirred  the  dregs  of  her  despair. 
A  faint  shock  came  to  her  with  the  thought  that  now  all 
Stafford  would  know  the  truth,  but  it  was  followed  by 
the  realization  that,  after  all,  concealment  would  not 
lessen  in  any  degree  the  horror  of  the  disaster. 

"Come  away!"  she  heard  herself  imploring  the  gossip. 
"Let  her  alone!  I  won't  have  folks  bothering  her. 
She's  got  enough  to  bear  as  it  is,  without  having  people 
prying.  Come  away,  come  away!" 

Mrs.  Chumley  suffered  herself  to  be  led  to  the  outer 
door. 

"  All  right.  I  came  over  to  return  the  cup  of  sugar  you 
lent  me;  I  left  it  in  the  kitchen.  I  am  much  obliged, 
and  I'm  as  sorry  for  you  as  one  woman  could  be  for 
another.  Good-night." 

Mrs.  Barry  went  to  the  supper-table,  and,  as  it  was 
growing  dark,  she  lighted  a  lamp.  She  proceeded  to  wash 
and  dry  and  put  away  the  dishes.  No  one  would  have 
suspected  that  such  a  deadening  blow  had  been  dealt 
her  to  have  looked  in  on  her  at  this  moment,  as  she 
moved  dumbly  about  the  room,  her  head  and  face  hidden 
by  the  gingham  sunbonnet  she  had  put  on.  It  was  a 
badge  of  humility — a  thing  she  vaguely  fancied  hid  her 
maternal  shame  from  eyes  which  she  already  felt  prying. 

Her  task  finished,  she  stood  for  a  moment  hesitatingly; 
then  she  blew  out  the  lamp  and  crept  softly  to  the  door 
of  her  daughter's  room.  Bending  her  head,  she  listened 
at  the  keyhole.  No  sound  came  to  her  ears,  and  she 
softly  lifted  the  latch  and  went  in.  Dora  still  lay  on  the 
bed,  her  arms  clutching  the  pillow,  her  face  out  of  view 
in  the  darkened  room. 

"  Darling,  I  haven't  come  to  scold  you,  don't  think 

79 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

that,"  the  old  woman  said,  most  tenderly,  as  she  sat 
down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  took  her  daughter's 
tear-damp  hand.  "  This  calamity  has  fallen  on  both  of 
us,  just  as  the  death  of  your  dear  father  did  so  far  away 
from  home,  and  just  as  many  other  hard  things  have 
come  to  us.  I  shall  stand  by  you  through  it  all.  It  is 
not  the  first  time  a  poor  young  girl  has  been  misled. 
Nothing  is  left  for  us  but  to  do  our  duty  to  the  best  of 
our  ability  in  the  sight  of  Heaven.  I  shall  not  press  you 
to  tell  me  a  thing,  either.  My  knowing  particulars 
wouldn't  better  matters  at  all.  It  is  done,  and  that  is 
enough.  Now,  go  to  sleep,  baby  girl,  and  don't  give  way 
to  despair.  Good-night." 

Dora  sat  up,  extended  her  arms,  and  for  a  moment  the 
two  remained  locked  in  a  tight,  sobbing  embrace.  Neither 
spoke  after  that.  Tenderly  releasing  her  daughter's 
twining  arms,  Mrs.  Barry  went  out  and  softly  closed  the 
door.  In  her  own  room,  in  utter  darkness,  she  un 
dressed.  Before  retiring,  and  with  the  sunbonnet  still 
on  her  head,  she  knelt  beside  a  chair  in  the  room 
and  started  to  pray,  but  somehow  the  needed  words 
failed  to  come.  Prayer  is  born  in  hope  in  some  sort  of 
faith,  at  least,  but  this  lone  widow,  brave  as  her  front 
appeared,  had  neither. 

"Oh,  Edwin!"  she  suddenly  cried  out,  "she  was  your 
idol,  your  little  pet;  you  used  to  say,  as  she  sat  on  your 
knee  in  the  firelight  at  night,  that  she  was  born  to  be 
lucky  and  happy.  You  said  her  beauty,  genius,  and 
gentleness  would  draw  the  world  to  her  feet.  You 
hoped  all  that  for  her,  Edwin,  and  yet  there  she  is  bowed 
down  in  the  greatest  shame  and  sorrow  that  can  fall  to 
a  young  girl's  lot.  On  the  day  you  left  never  to  return, 
you  told  me  of  the  great  Virginia  family  from  which  she 
was  descended,  and  said  that  some  day  we'd  be  grand 
parents  of  children  that  would  make  us  proud.  Poor, 
dear  Edwin ! — that  was  only  one  of  your  pretty  dreams — 

80 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

our  grandchild,  if  God  lets  it  come,  won't  even  have  a 
name  of  its  own,  and  may  bear  this  curse  through  a  long 
life  to  its  grave.  Oh,  Edwin! — my  gentle,  loving  hus 
band — you  are  here  by  my  side  to-night,  aren't  you? 
You  are  here  putting  your  dear  spirit  arms  about  me, 
trying  to  comfort  me,  and  you  will  help  her,  too,  dear 
husband,  as  you  are  helping  me.  Hold  up  the  sweet, 
stricken  child.  Fill  her  dark  life  with  your  own  un 
realized  dreams.  Give  her  something — anything  to 
help  her  bear  her  burden!  That's  my  prayer  to  you, 
Edwin — to  you,  and  to  God!" 

She  went  to  her  bed  and  threw  herself  down.  Tears 
welled  up  in  her,  but  she  forced  them  back,  and,  dry-eyed 
and  still,  she  lay  with  her  wrinkled  face  near  to  the  wall. 


CHAPTER  X 

JNE  evening,  two  days  later,  General 
^Sylvester  and  his  niece  and  nephew 
sat  on  the  front  veranda  to  catch  the 
cool  breezes  which  swept  across  the 
town  and  stirred  the  foliage  of  the 
trees  on  the  lawn.  The  old  gentleman 
had  been  urging  Margaret  to  go  to  the  piano  in  the  big 
parlor  and  sing  for  them,  but  she  had  persistently  de 
clined.  Since  Fred  Walton's  leaving,  despite  her  evi 
dent  efforts  to  appear  unconcerned,  she  had  not  seemed 
to  her  watchful  brother  and  uncle  to  be  at  all  like  her 
self,  and  they  were  constantly  trying  to  divert  her  mind 
from  the  unpleasant  matter. 

At  this  juncture  Kenneth  Gait's  carriage  and  pair  of 
spirited  blacks,  driven  by  John  Dilk,  his  faithful  negro 
coachman,  came  briskly  down  the  street,  and  turned  into 
the  adjoining  grounds  through  the  gateway  to  the 
gravelled  drive,  and  drew  up  at  the  steps  of  the  house, 
which  was  not  very  different  from  the  Bearing  home 
in  size,  period,  and  architecture. 

"Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you!"  the  General  exclaimed, 
suddenly.  "  Gait  is  off  to  Atlanta,  to  see  some  more 
capitalists  on  our  new  railroad  scheme.  You  may  think 
lightly  of  it,  my  boy,  but  as  sure  as  fate  we  are  going  to 
put  that  big  trunk-line  through — or,  rather,  Gait  is.  He 
thinks  it  is  in  good  shape,  and  that  is  encouragement 
enough  for  me.  He  has  handled  my  affairs  ever  since 
he  hung  out  his  shingle  as  a  lawyer,  and  as  he  made 

82 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

money  hand  over  hand  for  himself,  he  has  for  me 
too." 

"  Yes,  he  has  the  keenest  sense  of  values  of  any  man 
in  the  State,"  Wynn  agreed.  "  He  has  the  full  con 
fidence  of  his  clients,  and  he  is  not  afraid  to  back  up  his 
ideas  with  money;  that  is  what  makes  a  successful 
speculator.  He  will  put  the  road  through  if  any  one 
can.  Investors  will  listen  to  a  man  who  has  succeeded 
in  everything  he  has  attempted." 

The  carriage  was  now  leaving  the  house,  and  when  it 
had  regained  the  street  and  was  about  to  pass,  the 
General  stood  up  and  waved  his  handkerchief.  The  car 
riage  paused  at  the  gate,  and  the  man  under  discussion 
sprang  out,  hat  in  hand,  and  hurried  up  the  walk. 

"I  have  only  a  minute  to  get  to  the  8.40  train,"  he 
informed  them,  as  he  bowed  to  Margaret,  and  smiled 
cordially  at  Bearing. 

Kenneth  Gait  was  an  interesting  man  from  many 
points  of  view.  His  intimate  friends  liked  him  because, 
to  them,  he  sometimes  unbent  and  was  himself;  to 
strangers  and  mere  acquaintances  he  was  cold,  formal, 
and  almost  painfully  dignified.  To  his  many  clients  he 
was  seldom  cordial  or  free,  and  never  familiar.  He  had 
gleaned  the  idea  somewhere,  from  his  or  some  one  else's 
experience,  that  no  genuinely  successful  financier  ever 
allowed  himself  to  be  taken  lightly,  so  he  never  jested 
about  his  affairs  nor  encouraged  it  in  others.  He  had 
set  a  high  price  upon  himself  and  his  chances  of  success 
in  life,  and  he  held  to  it  the  more  tenaciously  the  higher 
he  climbed.  When  approached  for  legal  or  financial 
advice  his  face  was  as  immovable  as  granite,  and  when 
he  gave  an  opinion  it  always  had  weight,  for  he  was  apt 
to  be  right.  He  was  considered  a  man  of  wonderful 
ability  and  power  among  men.  He  couldn't  have  been 
a  successful  politician,  for  he  could  never  have  sufficient 
ly  lowered  himself  to  the  level  of  the  common  people,  so 

83 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

it  was  fortunate  for  him  that  his  ambition  associated  him 
with  another  and  a  more  lucrative  class.  He  was  in 
teresting  as  any  human  enigma  could  be  which  showed 
outward  signs  of  hidden  depth  and  strength.  For  an 
orthodox  community  like  that  of  old  Stafford,  his  icon 
oclastic  views  on  some  sacred  subjects  shocked  many 
conservative  individuals,  but  he  was  so  firm  in  his  philos 
ophy  and  frank  in  his  open  expression  of  it,  that  he  was 
forgiven  where  a  weaker,  less-important  man  would  have 
been  adversely  criticized.  He  had  convinced  himself, 
or  been  convinced  during  the  hours  he  had  spent  in  his 
unique  library,  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  soul  or  a 
soul's  immortality,  and  he  was  proving,  by  his  persistent 
effort  to  make  the  most  of  the  present,  that  in  the  very 
renunciation  of  the  dogma  he  had  discovered  the  highest 
law  of  life. 

"Well,  you  are  off,  I  see,"  the  General  said,  "and  I 
hope  the  parties  will  not  only  be  there,  but  with  their 
check-books  wide  open." 

"  Yes,  I'll  see  what  can  be  done,"  Gait  answered,  some 
what  coldly,  for  it  was  against  his  policy  to  speak  of 
business  matters  in  any  social  group.  "  I  happened  to 
have  the  land  deed  you  wanted  in  my  pocket,  General, 
and  I  thought  I'd  stop  and  hand  it  to  you." 

"  Oh  yes,  thank  you,"  Sylvester  said.  "  I  knew  it  was 
all  right,  but  I  want  to  keep  all  my  papers  which  you 
don't  have  need  for  in  my  safe." 

"And  how  is  Miss  Margaret?"  Gait  now  asked,  as  he 
turned  the  document  over  to  its  owner,  and  bent  toward 
the  wistful  face  of  the  young  girl. 

"Oh,  I'm  quite  well,  thank  you,"  she  responded,  forc 
ing  a  smile.  "  You  are  a  fortunate  man,  Mr.  Gait.  My 
uncle  doesn't  praise  many  people,  but  he  can't  say 
enough  in  your  favor." 

"That's  because  he  only  knows  the  business  side  of 
me,"  Gait  said,  ceasing  to  smile,  and  drawing  himself  up. 

34 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  Well,  I  must  be  off.  I  see  John  lashing  the  air  with 
his  whip;  he  is  my  time-table." 

"  Yes,  you'd  better  not  lose  your  train,"  the  General 
put  in.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  the  cause  of  your  missing 
that  appointment.  Get  a  rosebud  for  his  buttonhole, 
Madge.  It  may  bring  us  good  luck." 

"Yes,  I  will."  The  girl  rose  languidly.  "There  are 
some  pretty  ones  near  the  gate." 

Gait  gallantly  assisted  her  down  the  steps,  and,  side 
by  side,  they  moved  along  the  wide  brick  walk.  Dear- 
ing  heard  his  uncle  chuckling  as  the  old  man  peered 
through  the  twilight  at  the  couple,  who  now  stood 
facing  each  other  over  a  bush  of  choice  roses. 

"Mark  my  words,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "we  may  have 
to  wait  awhile  for  it,  but  as  sure  as  you  and  I  are  alive, 
that  pair  will  some  day  be  more  closely  related  to  each 
other  than  they  are  now." 

Dearing  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  remained  silent. 

"You  don't  think  so?"  the  General  pursued,  with  the 
eagerness  of  a  child  who  has  discovered  a  new  toy. 
"  They  can't  help  it.  He  is  much  older  than  she  is,  but 
it  would  be  an  ideal  match.  The  fellow  is  actually  a 
great  man.  There  is  no  curbing  his  ambition.  He  has 
accomplished  wonders  so  far,  and  there  is  no  telling  what 
his  particular  genius  will  ripen  into." 

"It  may  be  as  you  say — in  time,"  Dearing  answered, 
after  a  pause;  "but  I'm  afraid  it  will  be  years  before 
Madge  forgets  Fred  Walton,  and  if  he  should  take  a 
notion  to  come  back,  as  such  fellows  always  do,  sooner 
or  later,  why,  we'd  only  have  our  trouble  over  again." 

"  But  he  told  you  he  was  going,  never  to  come  back?" 
the  old  man  said,  with  a  touch  of  resentment  even  at  the 
thought. 

"Yes;  he  said  positively  that  his  conduct,  whatever  it 
was,  would  keep  him  from  ever  showing  his  face  in 
Stafford  again." 

85 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"I  have  been  wondering  what  he  could  have  done," 
General  Sylvester  said,  musingly.  "  I  dropped  in  on 
his  father  the  other  day  for  no  other  reason  than  that 
he  might  let  out  some  hint  of  the  situation,  but  he  never 
said  a  word.  A  big  change  has  certainly  come  over  him. 
His  face  was  haggard  and  almost  bloodless,  and  his  eyes 
had  a  queer,  shifting  look.  I  am  sure  he  knows  all  about 
the  affair,  whatever  it  is." 

"Yes;  Fred  said  the  old  man  knew,  and  would  tell  it, 
but  it  seems  he  has  not,"  Bearing  answered. 

"  Ashamed  to  let  it  be  known,  I  guess,"  Sylvester  said. 

Margaret  and  Gait  had  parted,  the  carriage  was  dis 
appearing  down  the  street,  and  the  girl  was  slowly  stroll 
ing  back.  At  a  bed  of  flowers  about  ten  yards  from 
them  she  paused  and  stood  looking  down.  Just  then  a 
loud,  strident  voice  reached  them  from  the  side  of  the 
house.  It  was  from  Mrs.  Chumley,  who  had  brought 
the  General's  laundry  home,  and  with  her  great  empty 
basket  was  making  her  way  across  the  grass  toward  the 
front  gate,  accompanied  by  old  Diana,  the  colored  cook. 

"Oh,  but  I  know  it  is  true — every  word  of  it!"  The 
white  woman  had  raised  her  voice  exultantly.  "I  was 
right  there  at  the  girl's  elbow,  and  heard  Mrs.  Barry 
accuse  her  of  it.  Dora  admitted  her  ruin,  and  laid  it  to 
Fred  Walton.  Now,  I  reckon  folks  will  know  why  he 
had  to  skip  out  by  the  light  o'  the  moon  without  a  bit 
of  baggage." 

Instantly  the  two  men  were  on  their  feet,  Margaret's 
protection  foremost  in  their  minds.  There  was  no  doubt 
that  she  had  heard,  for  she  was  standing  facing  the  two 
women  like  a  figure  carved  from  stone. 

"Excuse  me,  Miss  Margaret,  I  didn't  know  you  was 
there,"  Mrs.  Chumley  said,  as  she  walked  on;  "but  it  is 
the  truth — the  Lord  knows  it  is  the  truth." 

"  My  God,  the  brutality  of  it!"  the  old  man  ejaculated. 
"To  think  it  should  come  to  her  like  that!" 

86 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"The  scoundrel!"  Bearing  cried.  "Now  I  under 
stand  fully,  and  if  I  had  known  the  truth,  I'd  have — 

But  he  went  no  further,  for  Margaret  was  slowly 
coming  toward  them.  The  grass  she  trod  was  wet  with 
dew,  and  ordinarily  she  would  have  realized  it,  and  lifted 
her  skirt,  but  she  now  moved  toward  them  like  a 
somnambulist.  At  the  bottom  step  her  foot  caught, 
and  as  they  both  sprang  to  her  assistance  she  gave  a 
forced,  harsh  laugh. 

"  How  awkward  I — I  am!"  she  stammered.  "  I  could 
never  da — dance  the  minuet  with  you  now,  Uncle  Tom. 
I  gave  Mr.  Gait  a  pretty  bud.  He  is  such  a  flatterer — 
saying  that  I — saying  that  he — 

She  suddenly  pressed  her  hand  to  her  head  and  reeled 
helplessly.  The  strong  arm  of  her  brother  went  round 
her,  and  her  head  sank  upon  his  shoulder.  His  face  was 
wrung  and  dark  with  blended  fury  and  anxiety,  his  strong 
lip  was  quivering. 

"  No,  she  is  not  fainting!"  He  spoke  to  his  uncle,  but 
for  her  ears,  with  the  intention  of  rousing  her.  "  She 
is  all  right.  Wake  up,  Madge!  I'll  slap  your  jaws,  old 
girl,  if  you  play  'possum  with  me.  You  may  fool  some 
folks,  but  not  your  family  doctor." 

"  No,  I  am  not  fainting.  Who  said  I  was?"  and  Mar 
garet  raised  her  head,  and  drew  herself  quite  erect.  "  I 
—I  am  going  in  to  sing  for  you." 

She  was  moving  toward  the  door  when  her  brother, 
with  a  catch  in  his  voice  and  a  firm  step  after  her,  said : 
''  No,  not  to-night,  dear.  Uncle  Tom  wouldn't  listen, 
anyway.  He's  simply  daft  about  the  new  railroad,  and 
couldn't  hold  his  tongue  even  for  a  minute.  Look  at 
those  damp  shoes.  You  will  catch  pneumonia.  Run 
up  to  your  room  and  change  them  at  once!" 

"  I  did  get  them  wet,  didn't  I  ?"  the  girl  said,  glancing 
down  at  her  feet.  The  next  moment  they  heard  her 
ascending  the  stairs.  Her  brother  stood  at  the  door 
7  87 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

peering  after  her  till  she  was  out  of  sight;  then  he  went 
back  to  his  chair,  and  sank  into  it.  The  General  was 
eager  to  take  up  the  startling  topic,  now  that  they  were 
alone,  but  Bearing's  ears  were  closed  to  what  he  was 
saying. 

" Poor  child!"  the  young  doctor  said  to  himself.  "To 
think  that  it  should  come  to  her — to  beautiful,  gentle 
Dora,  with  her  wonderful  ideals!  And  he  could  de 
liberately  desert  her!  He  could  look  another  man  in  the 
face  and  confess  that  he  was  without  the  courage  to  lift 
a  woman  up  after  he  had  knocked  her  down." 

Leaving  his  uncle,  he  went  up  to  his  room  and  sat 
alone  in  the  darkness  before  an  open  window.  Across 
the  lawn  he  saw  a  solitary  light  in  Mrs.  Barry's  cottage. 
It  was  from  the  window  of  Dora's  room,  and  for  an  hour 
he  sat  watching  it.  He  kept  his  eyes  on  it  till  it  went 
out;  then  he  rose,  and  began  to  undress. 


CHAPTER  XI 

FEW  days  after  the  report  of  Dora 
Barry's  fall  had  permeated  Stafford 
from  the  town's  centre  to  its  scattering 
outskirts,  and  the  beautiful  girl's  dis 
grace  had  been  duly  recorded  as  the 
now  certain  explanation  of  Fred  Wal 
ton's  flight,  it  came  to  his  father's  ears  in  a  rather  in 
direct  manner.  Old  Simon  was  erroneously  supposed 
to  have  learned  the  truth,  even  before  it  became  town- 
talk;  for  it  was  vaguely  whispered  that  the  banker  had 
been  so  moved  by  Mrs.  Barry's  personal  appeal  to  him 
in  behalf  of  her  daughter  that  he  had  called  in  the 
sheriff  with  the  intention  of  having  his  son  held  to  honor 
by  sheer  force,  but  for  some  reason  had  refrained  from 
taking  action. 

There  are  individuals  in  every  community,  too,  who 
are  bold  enough  to  mention  a  delicate  topic  even  to 
those  most  sensitively  concerned,  and  as  old  Walton 
was  going  to  the  bank  on  the  morning  in  question  Bailey 
Thornton,  a  man  of  great  size,  who  kept  a  grocery  where 
the  banker  bought  his  supplies,  essayed  a  jest  as  he 
passed  the  old  man's  morning  cigar  to  him  over  the  show 
case.  The  bystanders  thoroughly  understood  what  was 
meant,  as  was  evinced  by  the  hearty  laugh  which  went 
round,  but  the  old  man  didn't. 

"Don't  be  hard  on  the  boy,  Mr.  Walton,"  Thornton 
added,  and  he  smiled  broadly  enough  to  explain  any 
ordinary  innuendo.  "  Remember  your  own  young 

89 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

days.  I'll  bet  Fred  came  by  it  honestly.  The  whole 
town  knows  the  truth ;  there  is  no  good  in  trying  to  hide 
it.  Tell  him  it  is  all  right,  and  make  him  come  back 
home." 

Old  Simon  grunted  and  walked  on,  flushing  under  the 
irritating  chorus  of  laughter  which  followed  him  out  of 
the  store.  "  Come  by  it  honestly !"  he  repeated.  "  What 
could  the  meddling  fool  mean  ?  The  whole  town  knows 
the  truth!" 

He  fell  to  quivering,  and  almost  came  to  a  dead  halt 
in  the  street.  Surely  the  circumstance  of  the  bank's 
loss  was  not  leaking  out,  after  all  his  caution?  He 
decided  that  he  would  at  once  sound  Toby  Lassiter. 
Perhaps  Fred  had  confided  in  others.  The  bare  chance 
of  the  shortage  being  known  and  used  against  him  by  the 
rival  bank  alarmed  him.  In  fancy  he  saw  the  report 
growing  and  spreading  through  the  town  and  country 
till  an  army  of  half-crazed  depositors,  egged  on  by  his 
enemies,  was  clamoring  at  the  door,  and  demanding 
funds  which  had  been  put  out  on  collateral  security,  and 
could  not  be  drawn  in  at  a  moment's  notice. 

As  he  was  passing  along  the  corridor  by  the  counting- 
room,  where,  beyond  the  green  wire  grating,  the  book 
keepers  were  at  work,  he  caught  Lassiter's  glance,  and 
with  a  wild  glare  in  his  eyes  he  nodded  peremptorily 
toward  the  rear.  He  had  just  hung  up  his  old  slouch 
hat  and  seated  himself  in  his  chair  when  the  clerk  joined 
him,  a  look  of  wonder  in  his  mild  eyes. 

"Say,  Toby,  sit  down — no,  shut  the  door!"  Simon 
ordered;  and  when  the  clerk  had  obeyed  and  taken  a 
chair  near  the  desk,  the  banker  leaned  toward  him. 

"I  want  to  know,"  he  panted,  "if  the  report  is  out 
about  Fred's  shortage?" 

"Why,  no,  Mr.  Walton,"  the  clerk  said,  astonished  in 
his  turn;  "that  is,  not  to  my  knowledge.  I  haven't 
heard  a  word  that  would  indicate  such  a  thing.  In  fact, 

90 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

they  all  seem  so  busy  with —       But  Lassiter  colored 
deeply,  and  suddenly  checked  himself. 

"  Well,  something  is  in  the  wind,  I  know,"  Simon  went 
on,  his  lip  quivering.  "  It  may  be  that  Thornton  only 
had  reference  to  the  boy's  general  extravagance,  or  he 
may  have  heard  false  reports  about  my  own  bringing- 
up ;  but  I  am  not  sure,  Toby,  but  that  the  thing  we  are 
trying  to  hide  is  out."  Thereupon  old  Simon,  his 
anxious  eyes  fixed  on  the  face  of  his  clerk,  recounted  in 
detail  all  that  the  grocer  had  said,  and  exactly  how  it 
had  come  up. 

"Oh,  I  see!"  Lassiter  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  relief. 
"  He  didn't  refer  to  the  money,  Mr.  Walton.  He  meant — 
It  was  loyalty  to  his  absent  friend  which  again  checked 
the  conscientious  Toby,  who  was  trying  to  reconcile  two 
adverse  duties,  and  now  sat  twirling  his  thumbs  in  visible 
embarrassment. 

"You  see  what?"  old  Simon  demanded,  fiercely. 
"  Don't  you  begin  shifting  here  and  there,  and  keeping 
things  from  me.  I  want  to  know  what's  took  place,  and 
I  will!  You  and  I  have  always  got  on  harmoniously, 
but  I  don't  like  your  shillyshallying  whenever  that 
boy's  name  is  mentioned.  The  other  day,  when  I  sent 
for  the  sheriff — well,  you  happened  to  be  right  in  stop 
ping  me  that  time,  I'll  admit,  but  I  want  to  know  what 
you  think  Bailey  Thornton  meant  by  what  he  said. 
Do  you  know?" 

The  clerk  looked  down.  His  face  was  quite  grave 
and  rigid. 

"  Mr.  Walton,"  he  faltered,  "  I  don't  like  to  carry  tales 
about  matters  which  don't  concern  me,  and  when  a 
nasty  report  gets  in  the  air  I  try  to  keep  from  having 
anything  to  do  with  it." 

"I'm  talking  to  you  about  business  now !"  Old  Simon 
raised  his  voice  to  a  shrill  cry,  which,  had  it  not  stranded 
in  his  throat,  would  have  reached  the  adjoining  room. 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"The  report  touches  on  my  affairs  here  in  this  house, 
and  if  you  don't  tell  me,  if  you  don't  aid  me  with  what 
ever  knowledge  you  may  have  run  across,  you  can  draw 
your  pay  and  quit." 

Lassiter  saw  the  utter  futility  of  remaining  silent 
longer,  and  with  a  desperate  look  on  his  face  he  answered : 

"  I  didn't  want  to  make  the  poor  boy's  case  any  worse, 
Mr.  Walton,  and  so  I  hoped  it  would  turn  out  untrue 
before  it  got  to  you;  but  they  say  the  girl  admits  the 
whole  thing.  The  minister  of  the  church  where  she 
plays  the  organ  told  me  it  was  true." 

"Girl?  What  girl?"  the  banker  gasped.  "Why  do 
you  take  all  day  to  get  at  a  thing?" 

Then,  as  Lassiter  told  the  story  which  was  on  every 
tongue,  old  Simon  stared,  his  mouth  falling  open  and 
his  unlighted  cigar  seesawing  between  his  jagged  stumps 
of  teeth. 

"  So  you  are  plumb  sure  it  wasn't  the  money  that 
Thornton  was  talking  about!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  deep 
breath  of  relief. 

"Yes,  I  am  sure  of  that,  Mr.  Walton.  They  have 
been  so  full  of  chatter  about  the  girl  that  not  a  word  has 
been  said  about  money,  although  some  think  you  ac 
tually  furnished  the  ready  cash  for  him  to  get  away  on." 

The  two  sat  silent  for  several  minutes;  then,  shaking 
his  tousled  head  and  shrugging  his  gaunt  shoulders  in 
his  faded  black  alpaca  coat,  the  banker  said,  with  grim 
finality  of  tone:  "He's  a  bad  egg,  Toby.  That  fellow 
is  rotten  to  the  core.  This  last  discovery  really  helps  us 
hide  the  other  matter,  but  the  two  of  them  put  to 
gether  will  wipe  his  name  off  the  slate  of  this  town  for 
ever.  He'll  never  dare  to  show  his  face  here  again. 
He  might  have  tried  to  get  around  me  and  live  down 
the  shortage,  but  I  reckon  both  things  coming  to  a  head 
at  once  kind  o'  broke  his  courage,  and  he  decided  to 
skedaddle.  I  have  no  pity  for  the  girl  neither — not  a 

92 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

smidgin;  a  woman  that  would  give  in  to  a  scamp  like 
him  don't  deserve  any  man's  pity.  Say,  Toby,  I'm  a 
peculiar  in  some  ways :  as  long  as  I  felt  that  I  owed  some 
thing  to  that  boy  as  his  father  his  doings  kind  o'  lay 
on  my  mind,  but  he  has  plumb  cancelled  that  obligation. 
I  can  get  along  without  worry  over  him  if  he  is  put  clean 
out  of  my  calculations,  so  after  this  I  don't  want  no 
human  being  to  mention  his  name  to  me.  I'll  let  'em 
know  that  they  can't  joke  with  me  about  it  on  the  street. 
I  want  you  to  go  this  minute  to  Bailey  Thornton's  store 
and  ask  him  for  my  account  up  to  date.  Then  I'll  send 
him  my  check,  and  do  my  trading  with  Pete  Longley. 
He  will  be  trotting  in  to  apologize,  but  keep  him  away 
from  me.  Huh!  he  can't  sneer  at  me  as  I  walk  along 
the  public  highways  of  this  town;  his  account  with  us 
isn't  worth  ten  cents  a  month,  and  he's  shaky,  anyway. 
I  wish  I'd  hit  him  in  the  mouth  as  he  stood  there 
gloating  over  his  dirty  joke!" 


CHAPTER  XII 

'ENNETH  GALT  came  back  from  At 
lanta  at  the  end  of  the  week.  John 
Dilk  drove  down,  and  brought  him  up 
from  the  station  at  dusk.  Gait  had 
just  alighted  at  his  front  steps,  and  the 
carriage  had  gone  round  the  house 
toward  the  stables  in  the  rear,  when  he  saw  Margaret 
Bearing  among  the  flowers  on  the  lawn  adjoining. 
Through  an  open  window,  in  the  glow  of  gas-light,  he 
could  see  the  supper-table  waiting  for  him,  and  knew 
that  his  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Wilson,  had  all  in  readiness 
for  his  evening  meal.  He  knew,  too,  that  she  was  most 
particular  about  having  his  favorite  dishes  served  while 
they  were  hot,  and  yet  he  could  not  resist  the  tempta 
tion  to  exchange  greetings  with  this  fair  young  girl 
whose  genial  friendship  and  interest  in  his  affairs  had 
always  appealed  to  him.  The  prospects  were  very 
bright  for  success  in  his  plan  of  building  a  railway  from 
Stafford  to  the  sea,  and  he  was  still  young  enough  to 
want  to  warm  himself  in  the  smile  of  the  girl's  approval. 
"Oh,  you  are  back!"  she  said,  cordially,  as  he  strode 
across  the  grass,  and  lightly  vaulted  over  the  row  of 
boxwood  which  divided  the  two  properties.  "Uncle 
Tom  will  be  delighted." 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  very  tired,"  he  answered.  He  paused 
and  shook  her  hand,  experiencing  a  decided  shock  as  he 
noticed  the  unexpected  pallor  of  her  face  and  the  dark 
splotches  beneath  her  eyes.  "  I  was  on  my  feet  all  morn- 

94 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

ing  in  Atlanta.     I  made  a  speech  to-day  at  a  luncheon, 
and  then  had  to  ride  up  on  a  slow  train." 

"And  the  railroad  is  almost  a  certainty?"  she  asked, 
forcing  a  wan  smile.  "  You  are  about  to  have  your  dream 
realized?" 

"Almost,"  he  answered,  modestly.  "I  think  we  may 
count  on  most  of  the  subscribers  for  the  stock  through 
out  the  South,  and  the  farmers  who  have  agreed  to 
donate  the  right  of  way  through  their  lands  still  seem 
enthusiastic.  The  only  thing  we  lack  is  the  support  of 
a  certain  group  of  New  York  capitalists  who  are  to  put 
up  the  bulk  of  the  funds  and  are  now  considering  our 
final  proposition.  If  they  should  go  in  the  road  would 
be  a  certainty." 

"My  uncle  is  sure  they  can  be  counted  on,"  the  girl 
went  on,  sympathetically.  "  He  declares  no  one  but 
you  could  have  won  the  confidence  of  all  those  prim, 
old-fashioned  ladies  and  pious  elders,  who  have  never 
been  willing  to  invest  their  savings  before." 

Gait  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  drew  back  somewhat 
into  his  habitual  mantle  of  reserve.  "  If  we  do  put  it 
through,"  he  said,  "  they  won't  regret  it.  Thorough 
confidence  in  an  enterprise  like  this  is  necessary,  of 
course,  and  I  am  glad  they  trust  me." 

"All  Stafford  was  reading  the  articles  in  the  Atlanta 
papers  yesterday  about  it,"  Margaret  said.  "Uncle 
says  when  it  is  settled  beyond  a  doubt  the  town  will 
give  a  torch-light  procession  in  your  honor." 

"There  were  many  inaccuracies  in  the  papers,"  he 
informed  her,  as  he  stood  wondering  over  her  evident 
dejection.  "Did  you  read  the  articles?" 

"  Did  I  ?  Twice — once  for  myself  and  again  for  Uncle. 
I  am  sure  he  had  already  been  over  them,  but,  like  the 
child  he  is,  he  wanted  to  hear  the  glorious  news  coming 
from  the  lips  of  some  one  else.  I  didn't  like  the  pictures 
of  you,  though — not  a  bit." 

95 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"You  didn't?     Why?" 

"Because  they  don't  do  you  justice;  they  were  so 
harsh  and  fierce.  They  made  your  mouth  look — what 
shall  I  say? — cruel? — yes,  cruel  and  utterly  heartless. 
And  we  all  know  you  are  not  so.  Wynn  says  you  have 
the  greatest  fondness  for  children  of  any  man  he  knows, 
and  surely  that  is  a  sign  of  a  good  heart." 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  am  now  showing  an  extravagant 
fondness  for,"  Gait  said,  with  a  cynical  laugh,  "and  that 
is,  hearing  you  sound  praises  that  aren't  deserved.  So 
I  am  going  to  tear  myself  away  from  them  and  run  in 
to  supper." 

"Poor  girl!"  he  mused,  as  he  walked  away.  "She 
looks  pale  and  troubled,  and  talks  as  if  she  were  trying 
to  hide  something.  She  has  altered,  even  in  the  last 
week.  I  wonder  if  she  really  cared  for  Fred  Walton? 
Who  knows?  Women  often  like  unworthy  men.  God 
knows,  I  ought  to  understand  that." 

After  supper  Gait  went  up  to  his  sumptuous  quarters 
on  the  floor  above,  and,  lighting  a  cigar,  he  threw  himself 
into  an  easy-chair  and  began  to  smoke. 

"  Yes,  I  must  see  her  to-night,"  he  said,  almost  aloud. 
"I  can't  wait  longer.  It  has  been  more  than  a  month 
now,  and  not  a  line  from  her.  I  am  winning  the  fight 
of  my  life,  and  I  want  to  see  her  glorious  face  light  up 
as  I  tell  her  about  it.  She  is  the  sweetest,  dearest  girl 
in  the  world.  Her  great  dreamy  eyes  haunt  me  night 
and  day.  I  love  her,  God  knows  I  do.  But  it  mustn't 
get  out  yet — not  yet;  not,  at  least,  till  my  road  is  built. 
We  have  a  right  to  our  secret,  the  sweetest  that  ever  a 
love-mad  pair  held  between  them.  She  trusts  me,  and 
for  the  present  no  one  need  dream  of  our  intimacy. 
The  last  time  I  saw  her  the  little  darling  had  all  sorts 
of  fears  in  her  dear  little  head,  but  such  fancies  are  only 
natural.  I'll  kiss  them  away,  once  she  is  nestling  in  my 
arms.  The  dear  little  thing  is  jealous — actually  jealous 

96 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

— of  my  success.  She  said  once  that  she  believed  I  would 
desert  her  if  it  would  serve  my  ambition  to  do  so.  She 
doesn't  know  me.  She  has  a  wonderful  brain,  but  she 
reads  me  wrongly." 

The  hours  went  by.  The  old  grandfather  clock  in  the 
hall  below  struck  nine  and  then  ten,  and  he  rose  and 
slipped  down  the  stairs  into  the  grounds  below.  Staf 
ford  was  a  town  which  went  early  to  bed  as  a  rule,  and 
Gait  found  a  vast  stillness  all  about  him  out  under  the 
mystically  shimmering  stars.  Softly  treading  the  grass 
and  furtively  looking  about,  he  went  down  to  a  gate 
near  his  stables,  passed  through  and  closed  it  without 
sound.  Again  looking  up  the  little  street  cautiously,  he 
went  on  till  he  reached  the  rear  gate  of  Mrs.  Barry's 
cottage.  Going  in,  he  walked  through  the  widow's 
vegetable  garden  till  he  stood  behind  the  little  coal-and- 
wood  house  not  ten  feet  from  the  open  window  of  Dora's 
room.  Here  he  paused,  holding  his  breath  in  suspense. 
There  was  a  light  in  the  room  as  from  a  low-burning 
gas-jet  at  the  bureau  in  the  corner,  and  against  the  white 
window-curtain  he  saw  the  shadow  of  some  one  bowed 
over  a  table.  The  outlines  of  the  silhouette  were 
familiar,  and  they^set  his  heart  to  beating  rapidly. 
Picking  up  some  small  particles  of  coal,  he  shot  them  at 
the  window  from  his  closed  hand  with  the  nail  of  his 
thumb.  Sometimes  they  would  fall  short  of  the  mark, 
but  now  and  then  one  would  strike  the  glass  and  pro 
duce  a  faint  clicking  sound.  The  trick  was  successful, 
as  it  had  been  before.  The  crouching  shadow  straight 
ened  up,  the  distinct  profile  of  Dora's  face  appeared 
for  an  instant,  and  then  lost  its  exquisite  outlines  in  a 
blur  of  black  which  elongated  itself  upward  as  the  girl 
rose  to  her  feet.  The  curtain  was  drawn,  and  Dora, 
fully  dressed,  peered  out.  Stepping  into  open  view, 
Gait  signalled  with  his  hand  for  her  to  come  out.  He 
saw  her  shake  her  head  excitedly  and  stand  motionless. 

97 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

He  signalled  again  and  again,  showing  his  impatience 
by  the  growing  rapidity  of  his  gestures  and  the  im 
passioned  movement  of  his  mute  lips.  He  heard  her 
sigh,  and  then  she  nodded  resignedly  and  retreated  into 
the  room.  Her  light  went  out.  She  was  coming;  he 
knew  she  would  join  him  if  her  mother  was  asleep.  And 
yet  that  sigh!  What  could  it  mean  from  her  who  had 
always  come  so  joyfully,  so  full  of  love  and  faith?  Ah, 
he  had  it!  The  gentle  girl,  not  having  seen  him  for 
several  weeks,  was  genuinely  jealous  of  the  weighty 
affairs  which  had  recently  absorbed  so  much  of  his 
attention.  All  the  uproar  over  his  prospective  success 
in  the  papers,  the  graphic  accounts  of  his  high  position, 
had  made  her  fancy,  in  her  artistic  sensitiveness,  that 
circumstances  were  separating  them.  Ah,  yes,  that 
was  it!  But  he  would  set  her  right  on  that  score,  as  he 
always  had  done.  He  would  convince  her  that  their 
sweet  secret  was  their  own,  and  assure  her  that  it  need 
not  be  long  now  before  they  could  announce  their  love 
to  the  world.  Where  could  he  look  for  a  better  or  a 
truer  mate?  The  secret  of  their  present,  and  perhaps 
imprudent,  intimacy  would  never  be  known.  But  for 
the  time  being,  of  course,  he  could  jiot  think  of  marry 
ing  any  one.  Much  depended,  right  now,  on  his  re 
maining  exactly  as  he  was — the  suave  bachelor  whom 
certain  prim  and  accurate  maiden  ladies  had  intrusted 
with  the  management  of  their  finances,  and  reserved  a 
right  to  decide,  as  members  of  some  churches  do  in  the 
cases  of  their  unmarried  pastors,  what  manner  of  woman 
their  paragon  was  to  choose,  if  any,  as  his  partner  in  life. 
They  would  be  unanimous  in  their  verdict  against  the 
artist's  beautiful  daughter,  not  being  able  to  see  her 
worth  and  charm  as  he  could  see  them.  And  to  an 
nounce  at  the  present  crisis  that  he  had  chosen  such  a 
wife  would  certainly  be  inadvisable.  He  had  become 
their  idol,  and  his  judgment  told  him  he  must  retain 

98 


THE   REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

their  good-will  in  all  things — at  least,  till  he  was  inde 
pendent  of  their  support. 

There  was  a  low,  creaking  sound  from  the  rusty  hinges 
of  the  rear  door  of  the  cottage,  followed  by  profound 
stillness,  and  he  knew  she  had  paused  on  the  steps  to  see 
if  her  mother  would  wake.  Then  he  breathed  in  vast 
relief,  for  he  saw  her  coming.  She  had  thrown  a  light 
shawl  over  her  head,  and  as  she  passed  from  under  the 
intervening  arbor  of  grape  -  vines  and  the  moonlight 
fell  upon  her  partly  exposed  face,  he  was  struck  by  its 
pallor,  and  by  the  desperate  gleam  in  the  eyes  so  steadily 
fixed  on  him. 

"Thank  God,  I  see  you  at  last,  darling!"  he  exclaimed, 
passionately,  as  he  held  out  his  arms.  But  to  his  amaze 
ment  she  drew  back,  warding  off  his  embrace  with  a 
hand  that  was  firm,  strong,  and  cold  as  ice. 

"You  must  go — you  must  never  come  again!"  she 
said,  in  a  voice  filled  with  suffering. 

The  little  wood-house  was  between  them  and  the 
cottage,  and  some  tall  trees  bordering  the  little  street 
threw  a  shadow  over  them. 

"But,  darling,  what's  the  matter?"  he  cried.  "What 
has  changed  you  so  remarkably  ?  Why,  little  girl — 

"Do  you  mean,  you  haven't — haven't  heard?"  She 
clutched  the  shawl  under  her  marble-like  chin  and  stared 
at  him,  her  pretty  lips  parted  and  quivering  piteously. 

"Heard  what?"  he  asked.  "I  have  heard  nothing — 
certainly  no  bad  news.  I've  been  away  for  a  week,  and 
only  came  home  this  evening." 

She  lowered  her  head,  and  stood  silent  and  motion 
less.  He  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  and  gently 
shook  her. 

"Tell  me,"  he  urged,  groping  for  an  explanation  of 
her  agitation,  "  is  your  mother  ill  again  ?  Is  she  worse  ?" 

"  No,  it  isn't  that— God  knows  even  that  would  be 
a  blessing.  Kenneth,  I'm  ruined!" 

99 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"You  don't  mean? — you  can't  mean? — "  He  stood 
aghast  before  her,  quivering  now  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Yes,  there  is  no  doubt  of  it.  Mother  suspected  it, 
and  was  so  miserable  that  I  had  to  admit  the  truth.  It 
almost  drove  her  crazy.  She  was  talking  to  me  about  it 
when  that  meddlesome  woman,  Mrs.  Chumley,  came 
in  and  overheard  it.  She  lost  no  time  in  spreading  the 
report  broadcast  over  town.  Everybody  has  known 
it  for  several  days." 

"Oh,  my  God!"  Gait  pronounced  the  words  in  his 
throat.  This  thing,  of  all  unexpected  things,  had  burst 
upon  him  at  the  very  crisis  of  his  triumph,  and  it  would 
ruin  him — there  was  no  denying  that ;  it  would  ruin  him ! 
In  his  fancy  he  saw  his  hitherto  irreproachable  character 
torn  to  shreds  by  the  men  and  women  who,  till  now, 
had  stood  behind  him.  The  dream  of  his  life  might  be 
carried  out  some  day,  but  not  by  a  man  of  his  stamp. 
He  groaned  aloud.  For  the  moment  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  show  sympathy  where  sympathy  most  be 
longed.  He  stood  as  a  man  stands  who  loves  life,  and  yet 
has  been  condemned  to  death.  Love  and  the  capacity 
for  self-sacrifice  in  Kenneth  Gait  were  best  nourished  by 
hope  and  happiness,  and  of  these  things  he  was  now  bereft. 

"Well,"  his  quivering  lips  finally  produced,  "we  must 
make  the  best  of  it.  We've  only  done  what  millions 
before  us  have  done  for  love  of  each  other.  And  what 
do  they  say  of  me?  I  suppose  they  think  I  won't  act 
the  part  of  an  honorable  man;  but,  Dora  darling — 

"Say  of  you?"  she  broke  in,  bitterly.  "They  have 
never  mentioned  your  name.  Not  a  soul — not  even  my 
mother — dreams  that  I  ever  met  you  in  secret.  You  are 
the  last  human  being  on  earth  that  would  be — be  ac 
cused.  Oh,  you  are  safe!  And  I'd  die  ten  thousand 
lingering  deaths  rather  than  drag  you  into  it!  Oh  no, 
you  are  absolutely  safe.  I  know  full  well  what  such  an 
exposure  would  mean  to  you." 

100 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

A  sense  of  unaccountable  lightness  possessed  him;  a 
vague  sort  of  relief  seemed  to  hover  over  him;  the  blood 
packed  in  his  heart  by  horror  now  began  to  flow  warm 
and  free.  "  They  haven't  mentioned — you  say —  You 
— didn't  tell  your  mother — that  I — ?" 

"  No,  I'd  cut  out  my  tongue  rather  than  let  her  know. 
You  told  me  when  we  last  met  that  even  a  bare  report 
of  our  engage — our  love  for  each  other  right  now  would 
harm  your  plans.  Do  you  think  that  I'd  let  a  horror 
like  this  come  up  against  you  ?  Even  if  you  declared  it 
was  true,  I'd  say  it  was  a  lie!  I'd  say  I  cared  for  some 
one  else.  They  declare  it  was  Fred  Walton,  anyway, 
because  he  left  so  suddenly.  I've  told  them  it  wasn't 
— told  them  and  told  them,  but  they  won't  believe  me. 
They  may  think  what  they  please,  but  they  sha'n't  say 
it  was  you!" 

"Fred  Walton!"  Gait's  mind  galloped  on.  "They 
blamed  it  on  that  reckless,  devil-may-care  fellow,  and 
it  would  be  like  Dora's  magnanimity  to  deny  the  truth 
for  all  time.  But  should  he  let  her  ?"  A  storm  of  incon 
gruous  tenderness  now  swept  over  him  as  he  stood  in 
the  coign  of  immunity  she  had  preserved  for  him  and 
regarded  the  sweet,  stricken  creature  before  him.  He 
laughed  aloud  in  sheer  derision  of  the  escape  she  was 
offering  him,  and  for  one  blind  instant  he  actually  be 
lieved  in  his  own  manhood. 

"Leave  you?"  he  said,  warmly,  and  he  took  her 
hands  into  his,  and,  although  she  firmly  resisted,  he  drew 
her  into  his  arms  and  tenderly  kissed  her  cold,  flower-like 
lips.  "  Let  another  man,  and  a  scamp  like  Fred  Walton, 
have  his  name  coupled  in  that  way  with  yours  ?  Never ! 
I  want  you,  Dora.  I'd  be  a  miserable  dog,  even  if  I  suc 
ceeded  with  my  paltry  enterprise  by  leaving  you !  No, I '11 
come  here  to-morrow  and  we'll  be  married,  as  we  ought  to 
have  been  months  and  months  ago.  Now,  go  to  bed,  and 
let  me  see  roses  on  your  pretty  cheeks  in  the  morning." 

101 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  You  are  speaking  without  thought — without  knowl 
edge  of  yourself."  The  girl  sighed  as  she  drew  away 
from  his  embrace  and  forcibly  put  down  his  detaining 
hands.  "  You  see,  I  know  you,  Kenneth,  better  than 
you  know  yourself.  You  love  me  in  a  way,  I  am  sure ; 
but  when  it  was  all  over,  and  you'd  paid  the  debt  you 
think  you  owe  me,  you'd  blame  me  for  being  the  blight 
to  your  prospects  that  I  would  be.  Listen!  What  is 
done  is  done.  Because  I  am  disgraced  is  no  reason  you 
should  be.  You  are  a  man  whose  ambition  is  his  life. 
Married  to  me,  and  hampered  by  the  name  I  now  bear, 
you'd  not  only  fail  in  your  present  enterprise,  but  you 
would  be  held  down  to  the  end  of  life.  Oh,  I  know  you 
so  well — so  very  well!  The  praise  and  adulation  of  the 
prominent  men  and  women  whose  friendship  you  have 
are  the  very  life-blood  of  your  being.  I've  known  you 
had  this  weakness  for  a  long  time,  but  I  had  to  bear  with 
it  as  a  natural  shortcoming." 

"  How  absurdly  you  talk!"  he  cried  out,  in  dull,  crush 
ed  admiration  for  such  logic  in  one  so  young  and  frail. 
"  But  I  assure  you,  Dora,  I'll  not  listen  to  such  silly  stuff 
for  a  minute.  You  are  going  to  be  my  wife.  Do  you 
hear  me  ? — my  wife !  We  will  let  the  blamed  railroad  go. 
I'll  tell  General  Sylvester  in  the  morning  that  we  are  off 
for  our  honeymoon.  Of  course  he'll  drop  me  like  a  hot 
potato,  but  he  may  do  it  for  all  I  care.  You  are  more  to 
me,  darling,  than  he  and  all  the  trunk-lines  in  the  world. 
Yes,  I  am  coming  for  you  to-morrow — to-morrow  af 
ternoon  at  three  o'clock!  Remember  that — at  three, 
sharp,  and  I'll — I'll  bring  a — a  preacher  and — every 
thing  necessary." 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  Dora  said,  firmly. 
"  You  think  at  this  moment  that  you  have  the  courage 
to  do  what  you  propose,  but,  Kenneth,  you  haven't — 
you  simply  haven't!  I  know  you  better  than  you  know 
yourself.  You  will  not  come  to-morrow  nor  any  other 

102 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

day!  I'll  never  see  you  again,  nor  do  I  want  to.  I  had 
a  kind  of  love  for  you  that  only  a  woman  could  under 
stand;  you  have  had  quite  another  sort  for  me.  You 
think  yours  is  still  alive,  but  it  died  of  paltry  fear, 
stifled  by  avarice;  mine  was  a  girlish  dream.  I  am 
awake  now.  Leave  me,  and  don't  approach  me  again. 
I  swear  to  you  that  your  secret  is  safe." 

She  moved  away.  He  tried  to  stop  her ;  but,  with  a 
warning  ringer  on  her  lips,  she  eluded  his  grasp,  and 
hurried  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

•RAVE,  very  brave,  and  sweet  and  no 
ble!"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  walked 
back  toward  the  gate  of  his  grounds; 
"  but  she  certainly  sha'n't  have  her  way. 
I'm  not  low  enough  for  that,  thank  God ! 
She  is  the  only  creature  I  ever  loved 
or  could  love,  and  she  is  mine  by  all  the  laws  of  heaven 
and  earth.  She  looked  like  a  young  goddess  as  she 
stood  there  with  that  fire  in  her  suffering  face,  and  calmly 
consigned  herself  to  disgrace  and  oblivion  that  my 
sordid  schemes  might  prosper.  I  am  not  poor.  I  can 
make  a  living  somehow,  somewhere,  if  "not  in  this  sleepy 
old  town;  and  with  her  always  by  my  side,  why — 

Across  the  lawn  he  saw  a  light  in  a  window  of  the 
Bearing  house.  It  was  in  General  Sylvester's  room. 
The  old  gentleman  retired  earlier  than  this  as  a  rule, 
and  Gait  told  himself  that  his  being  up  now  was  due 
to  the  almost  child-like  joy  over  the  encouraging  condi 
tion  of  their  joint  enterprise.  He  saw  the  old  soldier's 
shadow  as  it  flitted  across  the  window,  and  knew  that 
he  was  walking  about,  as  was  his  habit  under  stress  of 
excitement. 

"Poor  old  man!"  Gait,  now  in  his  own  grounds, 
leaned  against  the  wall  of  a  rustic  summer-house.  A 
thought  had  struck  him  like  a  blow  from  the  dark. 
What  would  Sylvester  say  when  he  was  told  the  truth  ? 
Gait  saw  the  look  of  sheer,  helpless  incredulity  on  the 
high-bred,  war-scarred  face  as  the  revelation  was  made, 

104 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

and  watched  it  glow  and  flame  into  that  of  anger,  con 
tempt,  and  bitter  disappointment.  The  mere  confes 
sion  of  wrong-doing  he  might  accept  as  frankly  as  it  was 
offered,  but  that  the  young  man  should  allow  such  a 
mishap  to  drag  his  own  proud  name  into  the  mire  and 
wreck  the  greatest  enterprise  that  had  ever  blessed  a 
down- trodden  community — well,  he  couldn't  have  be 
lieved  such  a  thing  possible. 

Heavily  laden  now  with  the  fires  of  a  purer  passion 
burning  low  under  the  shadow  of  his  impending  ruin, 
Kenneth  Gait  dragged  himself  slowly  along  the  walk 
toward  his  house.  He  was  turning  the  corner  to  enter 
at  the  front  when  he  saw  a  carriage  and  pair  at  the  gate. 
The  moon  had  gone  under  a  thin  cloud  and  the  view  was 
vague,  but  surely  they  were  his  own  horses,  and  the  man 
on  the  driver's  seat  certainly  looked  like  John  Dilk. 
Wonderingly,  Gait  went  down  to  the  gate.  The  negro 
was  fast  asleep;  his  massive  head  had  fallen  forward, 
and  the  hands  which  held  the  reins  were  inert.  The 
gate  rattled  as  Gait  touched  the  iron  latch,  and  the  man 
woke  and  looked  about  him. 

"Oh,  is  dat  you,  Marse  Kenneth?"  he  asked,  sleepily. 

"Yes,"  Gait  answered,  rather  sharply.  "What  are 
you  doing  with  the  horses  out  at  this  time  of  night?" 

"Oh!  oh!  Le'  me  see,  suh!"  The  negro's  wits  were 
evidently  scattered.  "  I  sw'ar  I  dunno,  Marse  Kenneth. 
Bless  my  soul,  you  jump  on  me  so  sudden  dat  I  can't, 
ter  save  my  life,  tell  you —  Oh  yes,  now  I  know,  suh! 
Why,  ain't  you  seed  de  Gineral  since  you  got  home, 
Marse  Kenneth?" 

"Why.no.     Does  he  want  me  ?" 

"  Yasser,  yasser,  he  sho'  do,"  the  negro  answered,  now 
thoroughly  himself.  "  He  been  searchin'  fer  you  high 
and  low,  Marse  Kenneth.  He  went  all  thoo  yo'  house. 
He  got  some'n  'portant  ter  tell  you.  He  ordered  me  ter 
hurry  an'  get  out  de  team,  an'  have  it  raidy  fer  you'n 

105 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

him.  He  just  run  in  his  house  er  minute  ago.  Dar  he 
is  comin'  now.  He's  dat  excited  an'  worried  about  not 
findin'  you  he  can't  hardly  hold  in." 

General  Sylvester,  as  he  stepped  from  the  veranda, 
recognized  Gait,  and  hurried  toward  him,  pulling  out 
his  watch  and  looking  at  it  in  the  doubtful  light. 

"Great  heavens!"  he  cried,  "we  haven't  a  minute  to 
lose.  You've  only  got  twenty  minutes  to  catch  the  1 1 .  i  o 
North-bound  train!  Run  up  and  get  your  bag!  I  saw 
it  there,  still  unpacked,  and  you  needn't  waste  a  minute. 
I've  glorious,  glorious  news  from  New  York — a  wire 
from  Alberts,  Wise  &  Co.  They  have  got  the  right  men 
for  our  deal,  and  with  dead  loads  of  money.  They  are 
ripe  for  the  thing,  and  the  brokers  wire  that  if  you  can 
be  there  day  after  to-morrow  morning  you  can  close  it. 
They  say  if  you  are  not  there  then  that  the  money  may 
be  diverted  to  other  deals,  and  they  advise  all  possible 
haste.  So  hurry.  You  must  not  miss  the  train.  Ev 
erything  depends  on  it.  Run,  get  the  bag!  John,  you 
get  it!  Quick!" 

"No,  I'll— I'll  do  it!"  Gait  gasped.  "Wait,  I'll  be 
down  in — in  a  minute!" 

"  Then  hurry.  We  can  talk  on  the  way  to  the  station. 
My  boy,  we  are  simply  going  to  land  it!  The  blessings 
of  the  widows  and  orphans,  whose  property  is  going  to 
bound  up  in  value,  will  be  on  your  plucky  young  head. 
Hurry  up!" 

Gait  moved  away,  as  weak  in  action  as  a  machine  run 
by  a  spring  of  such  delicacy  that  it  could  be  broken  by 
the  breath  of  an  insect  or  the  fall  of  an  atom.  It  struck 
him  as  ridiculous  that  he  should  be  going  for  his  bag 
if  he  did  not  intend  to  use  it ;  and  to  confess  even  now 
that  he  couldn't  make  the  trip  would  seem  queer  and 
cowardly,  for  he  ought  to  have  explained  at  once.  As 
cending  the  stairs,  he  reached  his  room.  He  turned  up 
the  gas,  and  his  image  in  the  big  pier-glass  between  the 

106 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

two  end  windows  looked  like  that  of  a  dead  man  ener 
gized  by  electricity.  There  lay  the  bag  by  the  bed,  the 
black  letters  "  K.  G.,"  on  the  end,  blandly  staring  at  him. 
Gait  looked  at  it,  and  then  back  to  his  reflection  in  the 
mirror. 

"My  God!"  he  cried  out,  suddenly,  "if  I  go  to-night 
I'll  be  deserting  her  forever,  and  she  will  have  read  me 
rightly!  She  would  keep  the  secret;  no  human  power 
could  wrench  it  from  her.  She  would  keep  it;  and  I — I, 
who  have  led  her  to  her  ruin,  would  be  deserting  her  as 
only  a  coward  could !  I  am  beneath  contempt.  And  yet 
what  am  I  to  do  ?  I  am  what  I  am — what  the  damnable 
forces  within  me  and  my  ancestors  have  made  me. 
Napoleon  loved,  and  put  aside  and  cast  down  for  his 
ambition,  and  have  I  not  the  same  right  for  mine?  I 
am  not  an  emperor,  but  my  ambition,  such  as  it  is,  is  as 
sweet  to  me  as  his  was  to  him.  As  she  says — as  the 
gentle  wilting  flower  says — I'd  be  miserable,  even  with 
her,  under  the  wreckage  of  all  these  hopes.  She  knows 
me;  child  though  she  is,  she  is  my  superior  in  many 
things.  She  knows  that  the  loss  of  this  thing — now  that 
I've  tasted  the  maddening  cup  of  success,  now  that  the 
poison  of  fame  and  public  approval  is  rioting  in  my 
blood — would  damn  me  forever!  Accidents  of  this  sort 
have  ruined  weak  men.  Strong  men  have  lived  to  smile 
back  upon  such  happenings  as  the  inevitable  conse 
quence  of  the  meeting  of  flame  and  powder,  and  have 
gone  to  their  graves  without  remorse.  I've  known  such 
men.  I've  heard  them  say  that  no  matter  how  heavily 
nature  may  scourge  the  conscience  of  man  for  theft,  for 
murder,  for  any  other  misdeed,  it  yet  deals  lightly  with 
this  particular  offence.  And  why?  Because  there  can 
be  no  charge  of  deliberation  in  an  act  to  which  passion 
ate  youth  is  led  by  the  very  sunshine  and  music  of 
heaven.  And  yet  I'll  lose  her.  Great  God,  /'//  actually 
lose  her!  I  can  never  look  into  her  sweet  face  again, 

107 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

or  kiss  the  dear  lips  ever  whispering  their  vows  of  un 
dying  faith  until  hell  opened  her  eyes  to — to  my  frailty. 
No,  no,  I  can't  desert  her;  I  can't — I  simply  can't!  I 
want  her!  I  want  her.  With  all  my  soul,  I  want  her!" 

There  was  a  step  in  the  hall  below,  and  General  Syl 
vester's  excited  old  voice  rose  and  rang  querulously 
through  the  still  space  below: 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  what's  the  matter  ?"  he  cried. 
"Come  on!  You  may  miss  the  train  as  it  is!  Come 
on!" 

"One  second,  General!"  Gait  cried  out.  "Wait!" 
He  had  not  yet  decided,  he  told  himself,  and  yet  his  cold 
hand  had  clutched  the  handle  of  his  bag.  He  lifted  it 
up,  swung  it  by  his  side,  and,  stepping  out  into  the  cor 
ridor,  peered  over  the  balustrade  down  the  stairs. 

"We  can't  wait,  man!"  the  General  shouted  from 
the  walk  outside.  "Hurry!" 

"All  right,  I'm  ready!"  and  Gait  strode  rapidly  down 
the  stairs,  sliding  his  hand  on  the  walnut  railing. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?"  Sylvester 
peered  at  him  anxiously  in  the  moonlight  as  he  emerged 
from  the  doorway.  "  You  look  white  and  worried. 
You've  done  too  much  in  Atlanta,  with  all  those  re 
ceptions  and  banquets.  Let's  call  a  halt  on  the  social 
end  of  the  business  till  we  have  clinched  the  thing  good 
and  tight.  Put  this  New  York  deal  through,  and  we 
can  dance  and  sing  and  cut  the  pigeon-wing  as  much 
as  we  please.  But  you  will  pull  it  through,  my  boy, 
my  prince  of  promoters,  with  that  wonderful  say-little 
air  you  have.  You  are  the  man  to  make  that  crowd 
of  Yankees  think  we  are  granting  them  favors  instead 
of  asking  for  them.  If  you  don't  miss  connection  and 
get  there  on  time,  you  will  win  as  sure  as  you  are  a  foot 
high." 

The  General  was  pushing  him  into  the  carriage,  and 
John  Dilk,  with  whip  poised  in  the  air,  and  a  tight, 

1 08 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

wide-awake  grip  on  the  reins  showed  readiness  for  his 
best  speed  record. 

"Now,  John,"  Sylvester  cried,  "miss  that  train,  and 
I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  black  hide!" 

The  negro  laughed  good-naturedly.  It  was  exactly 
the  sort  of  command  he  loved  to  get  from  the  old  man 
who  had  done  him  a  hundred  services. 

"  You  watch  me,  Marse  Gineral,"  he  said,  with  a 
chuckle;  "but  you  better  keep  yo'  mouf  closed.  Ef 
you  don't,  dis  hoss  in  de  lead  will  fill  it  wid  clay.  He's 
de  beatenes'  animal  ter  fling  mud  I  ever  driv." 

On  they  sped,  cutting  the  warm,  still  air  into  a  sharp, 
steady  current  against  them.  The  General  babbled  on 
enthusiastically,  but  Gait  failed  to  catch  half  he  was 
saying.  To  all  outward  appearances,  he  was  being 
hurtled  on  to  triumph;  in  reality,  he  was  leaving  the 
just-filled  grave  of  his  manhood.  Before  his  humiliated 
sight  stood  a  wonderful  face  written  full  of  knowledge 
of  himself — a  knowledge  more  penetrating  than  that 
of  the  world- wise  men  who  bowed  before  his  prowess; 
a  face,  the  beauty  and  tenderness  of  which  were  ever 
to  remain  stamped  on  his  memory;  a  face  wrung  by  a 
storm  of  agony,  contempt,  and — martyrdom!  And  he 
was  striking  it !  The  pleading  eyes,  scornful  nose,  quiv 
ering,  drooping  mouth  were  receiving  the  brunt  of  all 
his  physical  force!  He  knew  the  cost,  and  was  going 
to  abide  by  it.  A  believer  in  the  eternal  existence  of 
the  human  soul  might  have  paused,  but  Gait  had  always 
contended  that  nothing  lay  beyond  a  man's  short  mate 
rial  life.  And  that  being  his  view,  how  could  he  suffer 
material  glories  like  these  to  slip  through  his  fingers 
for  the  sake  of  a  mere  principle — a  transient  dream  of 
the  senses?  Yes,  yes;  and  yet  the  pain,  the  crush 
ing  agony,  the  maddened  thing  within  him  which  all 
but  tempted  him  to  clutch  the  chattering  old  tempt 
er  at  his  side  by  the  neck  and  hurl  him  to  the  earth! 

109 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

And  yet  he  nodded  and  said  he  was  glad  that  the 
General  had  been  so  thoughtful  as  to  telephone  the 
station-agent  to  secure  the  drawing-room  on  the  Pull 
man. 

"We  must  not  do  things  by  halves,"  the  old  soldier 
crowed.  "The  man  who  is  to  have  his  own  private  car 
as  the  president  of  the  great  S.  R.  and  M.  must  not  be 
seen,  even  by  a  negro  porter,  crawling  into  an  upper 
berth.  Your  plan  of  living  high  in  order  to  be  on  a 
high  level  is  fine  business  policy.  You  haven't  spared 
expense  in  Atlanta;  you  mustn't  in  New  York,  either. 
Dine  'em,  wine  'em;  throw  wads  of  cash  at  the  servants 
— do  anything!  They  know  who  the  Gaits  of  Charles 
ton  and  Savannah  were  before  the  War :  let  'em  see  that 
the  old  blood  is  still  alive." 

They  had  been  at  the  station  only  a  minute  when  the 
train  arrived.  John  Dilk  brushed  by  the  porter  at  the 
step  of  the  long  sleeper,  and  proudly  bore  his  master's 
bag  into  the  drawing-room.  There  was  a  hurried  shak 
ing  of  hands  between  Gait  and  the  General,  and  the 
train  smoothly  rolled  away. 

Alone  in  the  luxurious  compartment,  Gait  sank  down. 
The  obsequious  porter  stood  awaiting  orders,  but  the 
passenger  scarcely  saw  him  or  heard  what  he  was  say 
ing.  Gait  was  now  fairly  stupefied  by  the  magnitude 
of  his  crime.  It  flashed  upon  him  as  actually  an  in 
credible  thing  —  his  leaving  Dora  with  so  much  to 
bear! 

He  had  taught  her  that  their  love,  like  that  of  their 
favorite  English  novelist,  had  lifted  them  above  mere 
conventional  rules  and  ceremonies,  and  rendered  them 
a  law  unto  themselves.  But  the  awakening  had  come. 
She  had  seen  him  in  the  garish  light  with  which  Truth 
had  pierced  his  outer  crust  and  revealed  his  quaking, 
cringing  soul.  She  would  despise  him,  the  very  mur 
muring  of  the  ponderous  wheels  beneath  him  told  him 

no 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

that,  and  from  now  on  he  must  avoid  her.  To  offer  her 
financial  aid  in  her  coming  trial  would  only  be  adding 
insult  to  injury,  knowing  her  as  he  knew  her;  so  even 
that  must  be  omitted — even  that,  while  he  was  accept 
ing  the  price  of  her  misery. 


I  HE  morning  sun  beat  fiercely  down 
on  Fred  Walton  and  his  new  friend 
as  they  trudged  along  the  dusty  road. 
The  pangs  of  hunger  had  seized  them, 
and  no  way  seemed  open  to  obtain  food 
short  of  begging  it  at  one  of  the  farm 
houses  which  they  were  passing,  and  that  Fred  shrank 
from  doing. 

"If  I  could  have  stopped  in  Atlanta  long  enough  to 
have  sold  my  watch  we  could  have  paid  our  way  for 
awhile,"  he  told  his  companion,  "but  I  thought  we  ought 
to  be  on  the  move." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  the  younger  agreed,  with  a  slow, 
doubtful  look  into  the  other's  face.  "  Will  you  tell  me — 
I  give  you  my  word  you  can  trust  me,"  he  went  on — 
"if  you  have  any  reason,  except  for  my  sake,  in  getting 
away  from  the  city?" 

"  Yes,  I  have,  Dick,"  Walton  replied.  "  I  may  as  well 
admit  it.  I  am  in  a  pretty  tight  place.  Things  are  done 
by  telegraph  these  days,  and  I  don't  feel  entirely  safe, 
even  here  in  the  country." 

"Ah,  I'm  sorry,  Fred!"  the  boy  declared.  "You 
have  been  so  good  to  me  that  it  doesn't  look  right  for 
anybody  to  be  running  you  down  like  a  common — 

"Thief!"  Walton  supplied  the  word  in  a  tone  of 
bitterness.  "That's  exactly  what  some  would  call  it. 
But  you  mustn't  be  afraid  of  me,  Dick.  I  went  wrong, 
and  lost  a  good  home  and  many  friends  by  it.  I've 

112 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

lost  something  else,  too,  Dick — some  one  else  whom  I 
once  had  as  my  own,  but  who  is  now  out  of  my  life 
forever." 

"You  mean — you  mean — a  sweetheart?"  ventured 
the  boy,  as  he  put  out  a  sympathetic  hand  and  touched 
the  arm  of  his  companion. 

Walton  nodded.  He  had  averted  his  eyes,  that  his  com 
panion  might  not  see  the  tears  which  blurred  his  sight, 
but  no  word  escaped  his  lips. 

"I'm  sorry,"  Dick  Warren  said,  simply,  and  his  hand 
tenderly  clung  to  the  dust-coated  sleeve — "I'm  sorry, 
Fred." 

"  I  wish  you  knew  her,  Dick,"  Walton  went  on,  rem- 
iniscently.  "  If  you  did,  I  reckon  you'd  pity  your  pal. 
Here  I  am,  a  tramp,  an  outcast  in  dirty  clothing,  and  no 
money  in  my  pocket.  If  you'd  ever  seen  her,  you'd  never 
dream  that  such  a  girl  could  have  actually  cared  for  a 
man  like  me.  I've  got  her  photograph  in  my  pocket. 
It  is  in  an  envelope.  I  have  not  looked  at  it  once  since 
I  left  her.  I  may  never  again  on  earth." 

"But  why?"  the  boy  asked,  wonderingly.  "It  seems 
like  it  would  be  company  for  you,  now  that  you  and  she 
are — parted." 

"She  gave  it  to  me  in  trust  and  confidence,"  Walton 
answered,  his  dull  gaze  still  averted.  "She  wouldn't 
want  me  to  have  it  now.  I  shall  keep  it — I  simply  can't 
give  it  up;  but  I  shall  not  insult  her  purity  by  looking 
at  it.  I  must  harden  myself,  and  forget — forget  thou 
sands  of  things.  You  may  see  it  if  you  wish."  Walton 
drew  the  envelope  from  his  pocket  and  extended  it  to 
his  companion.  "I'll  walk  ahead,  and  when  you've 
looked  at  it  put  it  back  in  the  envelope." 

"  All  right;  thank  you,  Fred."  The  boy  fell  back  a  few 
steps,  and  with  his  eyes  straight  in  front  of  him  Walton 
trudged  on  stolidly.  The  boy  gazed  at  the  picture 
steadily  for  several  minutes,  and  then  caught  up  with 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

his  companion  and  returned  the  envelope.  He  was 
silent  for  a  moment  then  he  said,  with  a  slight  huskiness 
in  his  young  voice: 

"Would  you  like  for  me  to  say  anything  about  her, 
Fred?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  should,"  Walton  responded,  slowly, 
as  he  thrust  the  envelope  back  into  his  pocket.  "  Yes, 
Dick,  I'd  like  to  hear  what  you  think  of  her." 

"  She  is  so  sweet  and  gentle  looking — so  good — so  very, 
very  pretty!  Oh,  Fred,  I  understand  now  how  you  feel! 
I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  a  face  that  I  liked  better.  It 
may  be  because  she  is  your — " 

"  Was!"  Walton  broke  in.     "  Don't  forget  that,  Dick." 

"  I  think  a  girl  like  that,  with  a  face  like  that,  would 
forgive  almost  anything  in  the  man  she  loved,"  the  boy 
went  on,  in  a  valiant  effort  at  consolation. 

"If  she  still  loved  him,  perhaps;  but  she  could  no 
longer  love  him,"  Walton  sighed.  "She  belongs  to  a 
proud  family,  Dick,  not  one  member  of  which  was  ever 
guilty  of  such  conduct  as  mine.  She  would  shudder  at 
the  sight  of  me,  she  would  blush  with  shame  for  having 
Cared  for  me.  That's  why  I  came  away.  If  I  had  not 
loved  her,  I'd  have  stayed  and  faced  my  punishment." 

After  this  talk  the  two  trudged  on  through  the  garish 
sunshine  without  exchanging  a  word  for  several  miles. 
It  was  noon.  They  had  come  to  the  gate  of  a  farm 
house  which  bore  the  look  of  prosperity,  and  they  paused 
in  the  shade  of  a  tree. 

"We  can't  go  farther  without  eating,"  the  boy  said. 
"You  don't  like  to  beg,  but  I  don't  care;  I've  done  it 
hundreds  of  times,  and  don't  feel  ashamed  of  it.  I'm 
going  to  put  on  a  bold  front  and  tackle  the  kitchen  in 
the  rear." 

"  Don't  ask  for  anything  for  me,"  Walton  said.  "  I'm 
not  very  hungry.  I  can  get  along  for  some  time  yet." 

"  Wait  till  I  find  out  how  it  smells  around  that  kitchen," 

114 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Dick  laughed.  "  I'm  nearly  dead."  The  boy  had  opened 
the  gate,  and  was  walking  briskly  toward  the  house, 
which  stood  back  about  a  hundred  yards  from  the  road. 
Walton  saw  him  meet  a  great  lazy-looking  dog  near  the 
steps  and  pat  the  animal  on  the  head.  Then  the  dog 
and  boy  went  round  the  building  toward  the  kitchen. 
A  moment  later  Walton  saw  Dick  returning,  a  flush  on 
his  face  and  empty  handed.  The  dog  paused  near  the 
front  steps,  wagging  a  cordial  if  not,  indeed,  a  regretful 
tail. 

"The  dirty  red-faced  scamp  ordered  me  to  move  on!" 
Dick  cried,  angrily.  "  He  says  the  country  is  overrun 
with  tramps,  who  won't  work  and  who  expect  to  live 
on  the  toil  of  honest  men." 

"  Did  he  say  that?"  and  Walton's  eyes  flashed.  "I'd 
like  to  prove  to  him  that  I'm  no —  But  what's  the  use  ?" 

"Look,  he's  coming!"  the  boy  said,  eagerly.  "May 
be  he's  changed  his  mind.  A  woman  was  listening  to 
what  he  said.  Perhaps  she's  told  him  to  call  us  back." 

The  fat,  middle-aged  farmer,  bald,  perspiring,  and 
without  hat  or  coat,  strode  down  to  them,  and  languidly 
opened  the  gate. 

"  Say,  I  just  want  to  tell  you  fellows  one  more  thing" 
he  panted,  as  he  wiped  his  bearded  chin  with  his  pudgy 
hand,  "  and  that  is  this:  We  may  look  like  a  lot  of  galoots 
just  out  of  an  asylum  along  this  here  road,  but  most  of 
us  have  a  grain  of  sense.  Back  here  a  piece  a  neighbor 
of  mine  sent  two  able-bodied  men  like  you  two  about 
their  business  a  month  ago,  and  that  night  his  barn  was 
fired.  Now,  if  you  fellows  try  any  game  of  that  sort  on 
me,  I'll—" 

"Dry  up!"  Walton  cried,  as  he  suddenly  faced  him. 
"  I  wasn't  begging  of  you.  I  only  let  this  boy  go  up  to 
you  because  he  is  nearly  starved.  You  can't  insult  me 
— I  won't  have  it!  I  am  not  a  tramp.  As* a  proof  of  it, 
I  have  a  good  solid  gold  watch  here  that  I  am  willing 

"5 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

to  sell  you  or  any  one  else  at  any  fair  price  you  may  put 
on  it." 

"Huh!  let  me  see  it."  The  farmer's  eyes  gleamed 
avariciously  as  Walton  took  the  watch  from  his  pocket 
and  extended  it  to  him. 

The  man  tested  the  weight  of  the  timepiece  by  toss 
ing  it  lightly  in  his  palm,  and  then  he  pried  the  case 
open  with  the  stiff  nail  of  his  thumb,  and,  with  a  critical 
eye,  examined  the  works. 

" Full- jewelled  and  good  make,"  he  said;  and  then  he 
gave  it  back.  "I'm  a  trader,"  he  went  on.  "I  make 
money  buying  and  selling  any  old  thing  from  a  pick 
axe  to  a  piano,  from  a  pet  cat  to  a  blooded  horse ;  but  I 
hain't  in  your  market." 

"You  say  you  'hain't'  ?"  Dick  Warren  mocked  him, 
in  fresh  anger. 

"No,  I  hain't,"  the  obtuse  farmer  repeated.  "I  did 
a  fool  thing  like  that  when  I  was  a  boy.  I  bought  a 
bay  mare  from  a  man  who  rid  up  to  my  daddy's  barn 
without  a  saddle,  blanket,  or  bridle — had  just  a  heavy 
hemp  rope  round  her  neck.  I  bit,  and  chuckled  all  that 
day  as  I  rid  about,  showing  the  gals  how  bright  I'd  been. 
Then  the  sheriff  of  the  county  hove  in  sight,  and — well, 
my  daddy  had  to  pay  out  a  hundred-dollar  lawyer's  fee 
to  prove  that  I  wasn't  of  age,  never  had  had  any  sense, 
and  couldn't  have  knowed  the  mare  was  stolen  property. 
So,  you  see,  when  a  fellow  comes  hiking  along  here  with 
out  a  nickel  to  buy  a  loaf  of  bread,  and  lookin'  like  he's 
been  wading  through  swamps  and  sleeping  in  haystacks, 
and  has  a  gold  ticker  that  is  good  enough  fer  the  vest- 
pocket  of  Jay  Gould,  why,  I  feel  like  pullin'  down  the  left- 
hand  corner  of  my  right  eye  an'  axin'  him  ef  he  hain't  got 
a  striped  suit  under  his  outside  one,  hot  as  the  weather  is." 

"You  blamed  old — "  Dick  Warren  began,  threaten 
ingly,  as  he  bristled  up  to  the  farmer,  his  fists  drawn; 
but  Walton  put  out  his  hand  and  stopped  him. 

116 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"He's  right,  Dick,"  he  said,  and  there  was  a  pained 
look  about  his  sensitive  mouth.  "The  circumstances 
are  dead  against  us." 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  they  are,  gents,"  grinned  the  man  at 
the  gate.  "Anyways,  I  don't  think  you  will  find  a 
buyer  fer  that  timepiece.  Good -day.  There  ain't 
nothing  in  all  this  palaver  fer  me,"  and  his  eye  twinkled 
as  he  finished.  "My  wife's  got  dinner  waitin'  for  me:  a 
good  fat  hen,  baked  to  a  turn,  with  rich  corn-meal  stuffin', 
an'  hot  biscuits,  coffee,  string-beans,  and  fried  ham — 
the  country-cured  sort  that  you've  read  about!" 


CHAPTER    XV 

SWEAR,  I'd  enjoy  firing  his  barn!" 
Dick  fumed,  as  the  two  friends  walked 
on  through  the  beating  sun.  "  I  don't 
think  I  can  stand  much  more  of  it, 
Fred.  I'm  all  gone  inside.  The  lining 
of  my  stomach  has  folded  over." 

They  were  passing  the  corner  of  a  field  where,  in  the 
distance,  they  could  see  two  men  at  work  digging  ditches 
to  drain  the  boggy  land,  and  they  paused  again  to  rest 
under  the  shade  of  a  tree. 

"  I  guess  they  will  stop  soon  and  go  home  to  a  square 

meal,"  Dick  said,  bitterly ;  and  then  his  roving  glance  fixed 

itself  on  a  spot  in  the  corner  of  the  snake-fence  near  by. 

"By  George!"  he  exclaimed,  exultantly,  "we  are  in 

luck!     Gee,  what  a  pick-up!" 

"What  is  it,  now?"  Walton  asked.  But  the  boy  was 
bounding  away  toward  the  fence.  "  You  wait  and  see — 
gee,  what  luck!" 

Walton  stood  and  watched  him  as  he  climbed  over 
the  fence,  dived  into  the  thick  underbrush,  and  reap 
peared  with  a  covered  tin  pail  in  his  hands.  As  he 
came  back  he  unfastened  the  lid  and  laughed  loud  and 
long.  "Full  to  the  brim!"  he  chuckled.  "Meat,  bread, 
pie,  and  a  bottle  of  fresh  milk.  We  can  leg  it  along  the 
road  a  piece  and  sit  down  to  it,  or  stow  it  away  as  we 
walk.  My  dinner-bell's  rung,  old  man." 

"Put  it  back,  Dick!  Go  put  it  back!"  Fred  said, 
firmly,  his  eyes  averted. 

118 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

The  boy  stared,  a  blended  expression  of  surprise  and 
keen  disappointment  capturing  his  features. 

"Do  you  really  mean  it,  Fred?"  he  asked,  his  lip 
falling,  the  pail  hanging  motionless  at  his  side. 

"Yes,  it  is  not  ours,"  the  other  said.  "Put  it  back 
before  they  see  you,  and  then  I'll — I'll  try  to  explain 
what  I  mean." 

The  boy  swore  under  his  breath,  and  for  a  moment 
he  stood  gloweringly  sullen,  but  at  the  third  command 
of  his  companion  he  retreated  to  the  fence  and  dropped 
the  pail  into  its  place.  Then  he  came  back,  his  head 
hanging,  his  face  still  dark  with  disappointment. 

"Huh!"  he  grunted,  and  started  on  without  waiting 
to  see  if  Fred  was  ready  to  go.  Walton  followed,  and 
presently  caught  up  with  him. 

"I'm  not  a  preacher,  Dick,"  he  began,  with  a  forced 
laugh,  which  was  intended  as  an  opening  wedge  to  the 
boy's  displeasure,  "  I'm  not  one  bit  better  than  you 
are.  I've  stolen  a  farmer's  watermelons  by  the  light 
of  the  moon,  and  climbed  his  June  apple-trees,  and 
filled  my  pocket  with  his  prize  fruit,  and  heartily  en 
joyed  it;  but  somehow  I  feel  differently  now.  Dick, 
I'm  older  than  you  are,  and  reckless  living  has  got  me 
down  and  stamped  all  hope  out  of  me.  I'm  fighting 
for  my  life.  I'm  swimming  in  a  strange,  swift  stream, 
and  my  strength  is  almost  gone,  but  I  have  grasped  at 
a  straw;  it  may  hold  me  up,  it  may  not;  but  I  hope  it 
will.  That  straw  is  the  determination  to  live  right — 
absolutely  right — from  now  on,  no  matter  what  it  costs. 
I've  done  great  wrong,  and  I'm  sick  with  the  very 
thought  of  it.  I  want  to  try  to  do  what  is  right,  and  if 
I  could  influence  you  to  feel  as  I  feel  about  these  things, 
I'd  like  it  mightily;  it  would  strengthen  me  in  my  course. 
Two  can  succeed  better,  even  at  a  thing  like  that,  than 
one." 

"  But  I'm  starving!"  the  boy  whimpered.  "  The  world 
9  119 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

wasn't  made  for  anybody  to  starve  in.  The  birds  up 
there  in  the  trees  don't  starve,  and  God  gave  them  as 
good  right  to  live  as  you  or  me.  Huh !  when  that  beefy 
chump  back  there  sows  his  wheat  they  watch  him  with 
their  keen  eyes  from  their  nests  in  the  trees,  and  when 
his  hulking  back  is  turned  they  chirp  with  glee  and 
pounce  down  on  his  seed  and  take  it  and  flutter  away 
with  it  in  the  sunshine." 

"  Dick,  you  are  a  bloody  anarchist!"  Walton  laughed 
gently  as  he  placed  his  hand  affectionately  on  the  boy's 
shoulder. 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  am  or  not,"  Warren  retort 
ed,  still  ruffled.  "  But  the  blamed  bucket  of  grub  may 
stay  where  it  is.  I  wanted  it  for  your  sake  as  much  as 
mine,  but  I  sha'n't  ask  you  to  sit  down  to  other  men's 
dinner  if  you  are  going  to  ask  the  blessing  over  it. 
But  you  are  too  dang  particular.  At  least,  I've  got  as 
much  right  to  the  stuff  as  they  have,  for  they  can  go 
home  and  get  more,  and  I  can't." 

"That  is  one  way  to  look  at  it,"  Walton  said,  quietly, 
"and  I  thought  as  you  do  once,  but  I  don't  now." 

After  this  they  trudged  along  for  several  minutes  in 
silence.  The  boy  did  not  raise  his  eyes  from  the  dusty 
ground,  but  he  put  his  hand  on  Walton's  arm,  and  there 
was  a  catch  in  his  young  throat  as  he  said: 

"Fred,  somehow  you  make  me  think  of  my  mother, 
When  she  was  alive  she  was  always  wanting  me  to  be 
good.  She  used  to  talk  to  me  when  I  was  a  little  tiny 
fellow.  It  was  always  that  one  thing  over  and  over : 
'My  little  boy  is  not  going  to  be  a  bad  man  when  he 
grows  up,  is  he?'  That's  what  she  said  time  after  time, 
and  in  a  thousand  ways  she  tried  to  impress  it  on  me. 
She  worried  a  lot  about  me  just  before  she  died.  You 
see,  my  father — well,  he  didn't  care  what  became  of 
me,  or  her,  either.  He  drank  like  a  fish,  and  went  with 
idle  men  about  the  loafing-places — -in  fact,  he  was  shot 

1 20 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

and  killed  in  a  bar-room.  I've  tried  pretty  hard  to 
have  faith  in  what  my  mother  used  to  say  about 
God's  mercy  and  all  that  stuff,  but,  Fred,  God  never 
answered  her  prayers  to  look  after  me.  If  I  haven't 
had  to  go  it  blind,  I  don't  want  a  cent.  Selling  papers 
on  the  street  at  night  till  nearly  morning,  sometimes 
sleeping  in  a  stairway,  outhouse,  or  stable.  Then  I  was 
a  messenger  boy,  for  a  little  better  wages,  in  a  dead 
boy's  uniform,  and  finally  became  a  tramp  telegraph 
operator.  But,  Fred,  you  are  true  blue.  I  don't  want 
a  better  pal.  The  way  you  yanked  out  that  watch 
and  offered  it  to  keep  me  out  of  jail  when  it  was  the  last 
thing  you  had  in  your  pocket — well,  you  can  count  on 
me,  that's  all.  I  won't  try  to  stuff  another  man's  grub 
down  your  throat,  either." 

A  man  was  coming  toward  them  on  horseback,  and 
as  he  drew  near  he  reined  in  and  leaned  forward  on  the 
neck  of  his  horse.  "  Gentleman,"  he  began,  as  he  pulled 
at  his  scraggy  beard  and  kicked  his  feet  more  firmly 
into  his  wooden  stirrups,  "  I  don't  know  whether  you 
fellows  are  interested  in  the  like  or  not,  but  I'm  riding 
round  here  and  yon  trying  to  drum  up  hands  to  gather 
and  crate  and  ship  my  crop  of  early  peaches.  There 
is  such  a  demand  for  labor  of  that  sort  all  through 
the  peach  section  that  we  are  powerful  short  on 
help." 

The  two  pedestrians  exchanged  eager  glances. 

"Where  is  your  place?"  Fred  asked. 

"Why,  it's  a  few  miles  to  the  right,  over  them  hills," 
the  rider  said.  "  It's  the  Womack  farm.  That's  my 
name.  I've  got  a  hundred  acres  of  dandy  Elbertas, 
and  they  are  ripening  as  fast  as  chickens  in  a  hatching- 
machine.  They  are  a  thing  that  has  to  be  picked  an' 
got  off  in  cold-storage  cars  at  exactly  the  right  minute 
or  they  ain't  worth  the  nails  in  the  crates  when  they  get 
to  market.  They  say  if  all  us  early  fellows  can  manage 

121 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

to  hit  New  York  just  right  this  year,  we'll  get  three  dol 
lars  a  crate,  an'  that  will  pay  big,  as  times  are  now." 

"How  far  is  it  to  your  place?"  Walton  asked. 

"  Why,  it's  a  little  better  than  seven  mile — on  a  bee- 
line;  but  I  reckon  by  the  nighest  road  it's  a  matter  of 
ten  or  thereabouts.  You  fellers  look  a  little  mite  tired, 
but  by  stiff  walking  you  could  get  there  by  sundown. 
You  can  make  good  wages  in  a  pinch  like  this  if  you 
will  buck  down  to  it — I  calculate  three  plunks  a  day  for 
each  of  you." 

"And  how  long  would  the  work  last?"  inquired  Fred, 
as  he  and  Warren  looked  at  each  other,  their  pulses 
quickening,  their  eyes  beginning  to  glow. 

"Well,  I  could  hold  you  down  for  two  weeks  at 
least,  for  mine  don't  all  ripen  at  once;  but  after  you  was 
through  on  my  land  you  could  go  farther  north  and  get 
more  to  do." 

"  I  think  we'd  better  take  you  up,"  Warren  said.  "  I'd 
like  that  sort  of  work."  He  winked  at  his  friend  and 
rubbed  his  stomach.  "  I  see  myself  packing  good,  ripe, 
juicy  peaches  right  now,  but  not  in  crates.  The  truth 
is,  farmer,  we  are  mighty  hungry,  and  that  is  a  long  walk. 
Now,  if  you  had  fifty  cents  about  you  that  you'd  be  will 
ing  to  let  go  in  an  advance,  why  we'll  buy  a  snack  at  some 
farm-house,  and  go  right  on  to  you." 

The  horseman's  shrewd  face  fell.  He  leaned  forward 
and  ran  his  gnarled  fingers  through  the  mane  of  his  horse, 
and  avoided  the  pair  of  anxious  eyes  fixed  on  his.  "  I 
don't  want  to  be  blunt  and  hurt  your  feelings,  fellers," 
he  said.  "But  we  never  come  together  before — we  are 
plumb  strangers,  I  might  say;  and,  well,  to  tell  the  truth, 
last  year  I  started  out  on  this  same  business,  and  to  my 
certain  knowledge  not  a  man,  woman,  gal,  boy,  nor 
baby  that  I  advanced  money  to  ever  got  to  my  place, 
while  all  the  others  who  wasn't  paid  was  there  bright 
and  early." 

122 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"But  we  are  hungry  and  weak!"  Dick  Warren  pro 
tested. 

"  Well,  some  o'  them  that  I  failed  to  get  told  the  self 
same  tale.  One  said  if  I'd  pay  off  the  mortgage  on  his 
land,  he'd  bring  his  entire  family;  but  that  wasn't  busi 
ness,  and  I  refused.  I'm  making  you  fellows  a  fair  open- 
and-shut  proposition.  You  hit  my  place  before  dark 
to-night  and  tell  my  wife  to  give  you  a  square  meal — 
tell  her  I've  hired  you  to  pick  and  pack,  and  that  I  said 
to  stow  you  away  somewhere  for  the  night.  She  will 
make  room  for  you.  Now,  I  hope  I'll  see  you  there. 
That's  as  good  as  I  can  offer,  as  I  look  at  it." 

"All  right,  we'll  be  there,"  Walton  promised.  "And 
we  will  do  the  best  we  can  for  your  interests." 

"Very  well,  gentleman,  I'll  expect  to  see  you  there 
when  I  get  back.  So  long."  And  with  his  legs  jogging 
the  flanks  of  his  mount,  the  farmer  rode  away. 

"We  can  make  it,  Dick,"  Walton  said,  encouragingly. 
"  Let's  bend  down  to  it." 

"The  thought  of  that  meal  is  enough  to  keep  me  go 
ing,"  the  boy  replied.  "  What  do  you  reckon  she  will 
give  us?  But  stop!  My  mouth  is  watering  at  such  a 
rate  that  I  believe  I'll  try  not  to  think  of  it." 

It  was  long  after  sundown  when  the  wayfarers  reached 
the  farm  in  question.  The  house  was  a  rambling,  one- 
story,  frame  structure  which  originally  had  been  painted, 
afterward  whitewashed,  and  rain  and  storm  beaten  till 
not  a  trace  of  any  sort  of  coating  remained  on  the  bare, 
fuzzy,  gray  boards.  At  the  gate,  or  bars,  of  the  snake- 
fence,  in  front,  they  paused,  faint  and  exhausted,  won 
dering  if  they  would  be  bitten  by  watch-dogs  if  they  en 
tered  unannounced.  On  the  grass  under  the  trees  in 
the  front  yard  a  group  of  twenty  or  more  young  women 
and  young  men  were  singing  plantation  melodies,  and 
here  and  there  couples  were  sitting  alone  or  strolling 
about,  their  heads  close  together. 

123 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"They  are  peach  -  gatherers,"  Walton  surmised. 
"Come  on;  there  are  no  dogs  that  I  can  see." 

Crawling  through  the  bars,  they  went  to  the  house. 
There  was  no  light  in  the  front  part,  but  a  yellow  glow 
shone  from  a  window  against  the  dark  foliage  of  the 
trees  in  the  rear,  and  thither  the  wanderers  directed 
their  lagging  steps.  Looking  in  at  the  open  door  of  the 
kitchen,  they  saw  the  portly  form  of  the  farmer's  wife 
at  a  table  washing  dishes  in  the  light  of  a  smoking  brass 
lamp  which  had  no  chimney. 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed,  as  her  kindly  eyes  fell  on  them. 
"Not  more  pickers,  surely?" 

"That's  what  we  are,  and  as  good  as  you  ever  laid 
eyes  on,"  Dick  told  her.  "Mr.  Womack  said  you'd 
give  us  something  to  eat.  We  haven't  had  a  bite  since 
yesterday." 

"  Well !"  The  woman  drew  her  hands  from  the  big  dish- 
pan  and  dried  them  on  her  apron  as  she  looked  them 
over  doubtfully.  "  Pete  Womack  goes  crazy  every  year 
at  picking-time.  He's  filled  the  house,  barn,  and  yard 
with  hooting  and  singing  gals  and  boys,  and  furnished 
nobody  to  wait  on  'em  but  me.  The  gals  all  say  they 
are  too  fagged  out  at  night  to  lay  their  hands  to  cooking 
or  dish-washing,  and  yet,  if  you'll  just  listen  and  watch, 
you'll  see  that  they  are  all  able  to  gallivant  with  the  men 
about  the  yard.  Six  couples  met  here  for  the  first  time 
last  summer  and  got  married.  They  say  there's  some 
progress  being  made  right  now  between  three  or  four, 
an'  picking's  just  set  in.  I  tell  Pete  he  ought  to  start 
a  marrying- agency  and  take  out  a  license  to  preach,  so 
he  can  tie  'em  on  the  spot  and  collect  two  fees.  Some 
of  'em  are  respectable  and  mean  all  right,  but  Pete  is 
so  anxious  to  get  his  crop  off  on  time  that  he's  got  women 
in  that  bunch  that — to  look  at  'em —  Well,  it  ain't  any 
of  my  business!  I  ain't  set  up  as  a  judge,  and  as  the 
saying  is,  I  won't  throw  no  stones.  But  you  say  you 

124 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

are  hungry,  and  I  don't  see  how  I  could  give  you  a 
thing  hot  at  this  time  of  night.  My  fires  are  out,  and — 

"Hot!"  Dick  shouted.  "Why,  I've  got  such  a  big 
storage  capacity  that  I'd  be  afraid  to  take  it  hot.  It 
might  generate  steam  and  explode." 

The  woman  laughed.  "Well,  you  twist  be  hungry," 
she  said.  "Come  on  in  the  dining-room  and  I'll  lay  it 
out  in  a  minute.  There  is  plenty  of  cold  stuff.  I  cook 
a  lot  ahead.  You  have  to  feed  pickers  like  kings  or 
they  won't  stay.  It  won't  take  long  to  heat  the  coffee. 
But  I  reckon  you  want  to  wash  and  wipe.  You'll  find 
pans  and  water  on  the  shelf  in  the  entry,  and  a  clean 
towel  on  the  roller.  I'll  be  ready  when  you  are." 

"  I'll  see  about  that,  old  lady,"  Dick  challenged  her, 
as  he  made  a  dash  for  the  near-by  water-shelf. 

Two  minutes  later  the  two  wanderers  sat  down  at  a 
long,  improvised  table,  made  of  unplaned  planks,  in  the 
dining-room.  In  the  light  of  a  guttering  home-made 
tallow  dip  the  farmer's  wife  spread  before  them  the  best 
meal  that  famished  men  ever  feasted  on.  They  saw 
roast  chicken  with  dressing,  fried  chicken  with  cream 
gravy,  country-smoked  ham  in  a  great  platter  of  eggs; 
butter,  hard  and  cold,  from  the  spring-house;  great, 
snow-capped  pound-cakes,  biscuits,  apple-sauce,  jellies, 
jams,  cold  buttermilk,  and  hot  coffee. 

"  I  don't  know  where  I'm  going  to  bunk  you  boys," 
Mrs.  Womack  said,  in  a  motherly  tone,  as  she  stood  be 
hind  their  chairs,  and,  with  unsuppressed  delight, 
watched  them  eat.  "The  women  and  gals  have  got 
every  bed  in  the  house ;  and  every  spot  on  the  floor,  even 
to  the  kitchen,  has  been  staked  off  by  the  men." 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  barn?"  Dick  mumbled, 
with  his  mouth  full.  "  I  wouldn't  want  a  better  place 
this  time  of  year  than  a  sweet-smelling  bed  of  fresh  hay 
or  fodder." 

"There's  plenty  of  room  in  the  loft  down  there,"  the 

125 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

woman  replied ;  "  but  somehow  I  hate  to  see  nice-looking 
young  men  like  you  put  in  a  place  like  that." 

"It  will  do  very  well,"  Fred  assured  her.  "  In  fact, 
we  would  rather  like  it." 

"Well,  a  little  later,  if  you  decide  to  stay,  I  may  fix 
you  a  place  in  the  house,"  the  woman  said;  "but  you 
got  in  too  late  to-night." 

"  I'm  dead  tired  and  sleepy,  Fred,"  Dick  said,  when 
they  had  left  the  table.  "  Let's  turn  in." 

Directed  by  Mrs.  Womack,  they  went  down  to  the 
barn,  and  from  the  big  cattle-room  on  the  ground  they 
climbed  a  ladder  to  the  loft  above.  A  startled  hen  flew 
from  her  nest  with  a  loud  cackling  as  they  crawled 
through  the  hay  and  husks  and  leaves  of  corn  to  a  square, 
shutterless  door,  through  which  the  hay  was  loaded  to 
wagons  below.  They  threw  off  their  coats  and  vests, 
and  made  pillows  of  them ;  then  took  off  their  shoes,  and 
lay  down  and  stretched  out  their  tired  limbs. 

Through  the  doorway  they  saw  the  fathomless  sky 
filled  with  mysterious  stars.  The  chirping  of  some  chick 
ens,  as  they  jostled  one  another  on  the  roost  below, 
came  up  to  them;  the  champing  of  the  teeth  of  a  horse, 
as  he  gnawed  his  wooden  trough;  the  snarling  of  a  tree- 
frog;  the  far-off  and  dismal  howling  of  a  dog,  and — they 
were  asleep. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

was  not  till  early  autumn  that  the 
i  two  friends  reached  their  far-off  desti- 
w.  nation.  Fred's  watch  had  been  sold; 
jjg  they  had  saved  the  greater  part  of  their 
earnings  from  the  various  odd  jobs  at 
which  they  had  worked,  and  had  made 
the  latter  end  of  their  journey  by  rail.  It  was  Walton's 
idea  that  they  must  put  their  best  foot  to  the  front  in 
Gate  City,  and  start  out  with  a  good  appearance  in  their 
new  home,  and  so  the  most  of  their  funds  were  promptly 
invested  in  new  clothing.  Notwithstanding  their  spick- 
and-span  appearance,  however,  luck  seemed  against 
them,  for  every  application  they  made  for  work — Dick 
as  a  telegraph  operator  and  Fred  as  an  accountant — was 
refused  them. 

The  city  was  a  bustling  new  place  with  prosperity 
and  activity  in  its  very  air.  There  were  great  railway- 
shops,  factories  of  several  kinds,  and  various  other  en 
terprises.  It  was  a  typical  Western  "boom"  town. 
Its  buildings  were  modern,  its  streets  regular  and  well- 
paved.  Men  and  women,  as  they  drove  through  the 
streets  in  their  carriages,  thought  nothing  of  it  if  a 
mounted  horde  of  yelling  cow-boys  galloped  past  with 
their  revolvers  playfully  flourished,  nor  saw  anything 
unusual  in  the  gangs  of  blanket-draped  Indians  who 
hung  about  the  bar-rooms,  dance-halls,  or  gambling- 
houses.  The  new-comers  liked  the  place;  Dick  believed 
they  would  eventually  secure  work,  and  Fred  had  the 

127 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

first  sense  of  security  which  had  come  to  him  since  leav 
ing  Stafford.  Here,  under  his  new  name,  in  this  remote 
place,  he  was  sure  he  would  meet  with  no  familiar  face, 
nor  catch  any  discordant  echoes  of  the  life  he  had  left 
behind  him,  and  which  he  was  trying  to  banish  from  his 
memory. 

There  was  in  the  town  a  certain  Stephen  Whipple,  a 
man  about  sixty-five  years  of  age,  who  had  come  from 
one  of  the  Southern  States  shortly  after  the  Civil  War. 
He  had  established  himself,  first,  as  a  small  grocer,  but, 
having  acquired  considerable  wealth,  he  was  now  the 
owner  of  the  only  wholesale  grocery  store  in  the  place, 
an  establishment  which  was  known  for  miles  around. 

He  was  an  earnest  member  of  the  Presbyterian 
church  of  the  town,  and  its  chief  pride,  owing  to  his 
influence  in  the  community.  It  had  been  his  money 
which  had  built  the  church  to  which  he  belonged,  and  it 
was  said  that  he  practically  paid  the  salary  of  its  elo 
quent  young  preacher. 

In  his  great  red-brick,  four-story  business-house  on 
the  main  street  Stephen  Whipple  had  his  private  office. 
It  was  in  the  rear  of  the  counting-room  and  was  of  un 
usual  size,  and  by  many  deemed  a  curious  place.  In 
deed,  it  was  put  to  strange,  unbusiness-like  uses,  for  it 
was  here  that  the  owner  of  the  establishment  person 
ally  received  all  sorts  of  applications  for  aid.  There 
were  half  a  dozen  plain  chairs  in  the  bare,  uncarpeted 
room,  and  the  Rev.  Luke  Matthews,  who  had  the  entree 
to  the  office  at  any  moment,  often  found  a  motley  gath 
ering  of  supplicants  on  hand,  each  patiently  awaiting 
his  turn  to  be  beckoned  to  the  seat  close  to  the  portly, 
shaggy-browed  merchant.  There  were  individuals  who 
called  the  old  man  a  deep-dyed  hypocrite,  for  they  held 
that  no  really  self-sacrificing  toiler  in  the  Lord's  vine 
yard  could  have  amassed  the  great  wealth  old  Whipple 
was  known  to  possess.  But  this  was  disputed  by  all  the 

128 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

men  in  his  employment,  at  least,  for  they  were  ready  to 
attest  that  Whipple  had  often  held  over  important  busi 
ness  matters  till  the  case  of  some  suffering  applicant 
could  be  investigated  and  relief  supplied.  There  were 
other  uses  to  which  this  room  was  put.  Old  Whipple, 
in  order  to  render  his  pet  church  more  attractive  to  the 
public,  selected  and  paid  out  of  his  own  pocket  the  sal 
aries  of  the  best  choir  in  town.  He  was  no  expert  mu 
sician,  but  he  had  them  meet  in  his  office  and  practise 
on  every  Saturday  afternoon,  and  he  was  always  present, 
seeing  to  it  that  refreshments  were  served  and  the  sing 
ers  made  comfortable. 

It  was  one  morning  when  Dick  Warren  and  Fred 
Walton  had  been  in  the  town  for  a  month,  and  had 
reached  the  lowest  ebb  of  their  resources,  that  the 
minister  dropped  in  to  see  the  merchant.  The  Rev. 
Luke  Matthews  was  of  unusual  height,  measuring  six 
feet  four,  very  slender  in  build,  and  of  markedly  nervous 
temperament.  He  was  under  thirty,  unmarried,  wore 
his  black  hair  long  enough  to  touch  his  shoulders,  and 
had  the  thin-lipped,  unbearded  face  of  an  Edwin  Booth. 
It  was  said  of  him  that  he  couldn't  keep  a  coin  in  his 
pocket — that  it  was  promptly  given  to  the  first  beggar 
he  met. 

"Well,  brother,  how  are  your  bones?"  was  the  half- 
jesting  greeting  he  gave  the  old  man,  as  he  bustled  in, 
buttoning  and  unbuttoning  his  long  black  coat  and 
swinging  his  broad-brimmed  hat  at  his  side.  "  Not 
holding  court  this  morning?"  He  laughed  as  he  looked 
over  the  empty  chairs. 

"  No;  I  sent  the  last  prisoner  up  for  life  an  hour  ago," 
the  merchant  responded,  jovially.  "  Set  down,  set 
down!" 

The  long-legged  man  with  the  poetic  face  complied. 
"Well,"  he  said,  "you'll  have  to  be  a  judge  in  that  sort 
of  tribunal  so  long  as  you  inhabit  this  globe."  He  smiled, 

129 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

showing  two  fine  rows  of  white  teeth.  "  It  looks  like  the 
Lord  is  pushing  you  on  to  unlimited  prosperity,  and 
your  work  for  humanity  will  increase  instead  of  letting 
up.  Say,  brother,  I  know  the  sort  of  thing  you  glory  in, 
and  I've  had  an  experience — the  sort  of  experience  that 
makes  a  fellow  feel  like  preaching  is  worth  while.  It  was 
exactly  the  kind  of  thing  you  are  interested  in  your 
self." 

"What  have  you  run  across  now?"  Whipple  asked,  as 
he  leaned  his  elbow  on  his  desk  and  rested  his  florid  face 
on  his  hand. 

"The  genuine  thing,  brother — a  genuine  reformation 
in  a  young  chap  hardly  out  of  his  teens.  He's  been 
coming  to  my  special  meetings  for  young  men,  and,  as 
I'm  a  close  observer,  I  was  attracted  by  his  face.  It  in 
terested  me  more  than  that  of  any  boy's  I  ever  saw. 
Finally,  I  ventured  to  approach  him.  I  never  scare 
them  off  if  I  can  help  it,  but  I  singled  him  out  from  the 
rest  last  Thursday  evening  and  spoke  to  him.  I  saw 
that  he  was  greatly  moved,  and  I  invited  him  into  my 
study,  and  we  had  a  good  long  heart-to-heart  talk. 
Brother  Whipple,  I  never  felt  the  glory  of  God  bearing 
down  on  me  in  my  life  as  I  did  while  that  boy  was  talk 
ing — while  he  was  telling  me  his  past  history.  Crying 
like  his  heart  would  break,  he  confessed  to  having  been 
almost  everything  a  boy  could  be — a  thief,  a  tramp,  and 
an  all-round,  good-for-nothing  idler,  from  his  childhood 
up  to  his  sudden  awakening  to  what  was  right." 

"Good,  good!"  Stephen  Whipple  ejaculated,  his  feat 
ures  working,  his  kind  old  eyes  twinkling. 

"But  now  comes  the  climax  to  my  experience,"  the 
minister  went  on.  "  You  and  I  meet  a  converted  per 
son  now  and  then,  but  we  don't  often  run  across  individ 
uals  in  private  life  who  are  leading  lives  which  convert. 
The  boy  went  on  to  tell  me,  brother,  how  he  was  rescued 
from  arrest  by  a  young  man  who  was  a  tramp  like  him- 

130 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

self.  They  began  searching  for  work  side  by  side. 
The  boy  told  me  how  his  new  friend — without  ever  say 
ing  a  word  that  was  preachy — gradually  won  him  from 
his  ingrained  tendencies  and  taught  him  the  difference 
between  right  and  wrong.  He  gave  me  scores  of  touch 
ing  and  inspiring  incidents  that  had  happened  between 
them  during  their  wanderings  here  and  there,  trying  to 
get  work.  Somehow  I  became  even  more  deeply  in 
terested  in  the  fellow  I  hadn't  met  than  the  one  I  had 
in  tow,  and  so  I  asked  the  boy  if  he  would  introduce  me 
to  his  friend.  He  hesitated  for  a  while,  and  then  finally 
agreed  to  take  me  to  the  room  they  had  together.  It 
was  away  over  beyond  the  railroads,  in  the  slums  of  our 
'tenderloin'  district.  It  seemed  to  be  the  only  room 
whose  price  they  could  afford,  and  they  were  unwilling  to 
contract  for  what  they  could  not  pay.  It  was  an  awful 
place,  brother,  up  a  narrow  flight  of  shaky  stairs,  in  the 
attic  of  a  negro  shoemaker's  house,  in  the  worst  part 
of  'Dive -town.'  The  man,  this  Fred  Spencer,  when 
we  came  in,  was  seated  at  the  little  dingy  window  read 
ing  a  newspaper.  He  seemed  very  much  surprised,  and 
flushed  red  as  he  stood  up  and  shook  hands.  He  was 
fine-looking — strong  and  tall,  well-clad  and  neat  from 
his  feet  to  his  carefully  combed  hair,  but  his  great  big 
sad  eyes  haunted  me  long  after  I  left  him,  and  when  he 
spoke  his  voice  seemed  to  come  from  a  proud  spirit  that 
was  crushed  and  broken.  He  began  by  saying  that  his 
friend  had  spoken  to  him  of  my  meetings,  and  that  he 
was  exceedingly  grateful  for  my  interest  and  courtesy 
in  calling.  He  tried  to  apologize  for  the  appearance  of 
the  room,  and  insisted  on  my  taking  the  only  chair  while 
he  and  his  room-mate  sat  on  the  bed,  which,  by  the  way, 
was  unfit  for  a  convict  to  sleep  on.  They  used  it  to 
gether,  and  yet  it  was  barely  wide  enough  for  one.  The 
straw  in  the  mattress  was  crumbling  to  powder  and  fall 
ing  to  the  floor." 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Poor  chaps,"  the  merchant  sighed,  "and  they  have 
evidently  seen  better  days." 

"Spencer,  the  older  one,  has  decidedly,"  the  min 
ister  answered.  "  He  is  evidently  Southern,  for  he  has 
the  soft  accent  of  Virginia,  I  should  say,  and  the  man 
ner  of  the  old  aristocracy.  I  told  him  that  I  had  heard 
of  his  good  influence  over  the  boy,  and  he  got  redder 
than  ever,  and  tried  to  make  light  of  what  he  had  done, 
endeavored,  in  fact,  to  convince  me  that  the  boy  had 
only  spoken  as  he  had  out  of  personal  friendship.  Final 
ly  I  offered  my  assistance  toward  finding  employment 
for  them  both,  and  Spencer  showed  real  embarrassment 
— as  if  he  did  not  want  to  put  me  to  any  trouble  in  the 
matter." 

"He's  tried  to  find  work  here,  then?"  Stephen  Whip- 
pie  mused,  aloud. 

"  Yes,  and  been  turned  down  on  all  sides.  He  has 
tried  till  he  has  lost  hope.  He  likes  Gate  City,  but  is 
afraid  they  will  be  driven  to  the  road  again." 

"And  to  think  that  a  fellow  like  that  can't  find  work," 
Whipple  cried,  indignantly,  "when  the  world  is  full  of 
grafters  and  panhandlers!  Brother  Matthews,  I  am  in 
terested  in  those  fellows,  especially  the  oldest  one.  My 
list  is  full,  as  you  know,  but  I  can  manage  to  find  places 
for  the  right  sort.  Couldn't  you  send  him  to  me  right 
away?  I'll  be  here  to-night  after  closing  time.  There 
won't  be  anybody  else  about,  and  me  and  him  can  talk 
undisturbed.  I'd  like  to  help  a  chap  like  that.  You 
have  got  me  interested.  The  world  is  too  fulj  of  bad 
men  who  are  prospering  for  his  sort  to  go  unrewarded." 

"  Well,  I'll  send  him,  Brother  Whipple.  God  bless  you, 
old  man,  you  can  always  be  counted  on!" 

That  evening  the  merchant  sat  in  the  light  of  his 
green-shaded  gas-lamp  at  his  desk  waiting  for  the  expect 
ed  caller.  The  outer  door  of  the  great  building,  which 
opened  on  the  main  street,  was  ajar,  and  was  plainly  vis- 

132 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

ible  to  the  merchant  from  his  seat.  Now,  as  he  heard 
his  visitor  coming,  he  rose  to  his  feet,  pushed  his  desk- 
chair  back  with  his  ponderous  calves,  and  stood  smiling 
cordially.  As  the  young  man  entered,  politely  remov 
ing  his  hat,  Whipple  grasped  Walton's  hand  and  shook 
it  warmly. 

"  I'm  powerfully  glad  to  know  you,  Mr.  Spencer," 
he  said — "I  am,  indeed.  I'm  told  you  are  a  new 
comer  to  our  brag  town,  and  as  I'm  one  of  the  pioneers, 
so  to  speak,  I  take  a  personal  pride  in  the  place,  and  I 
want  to  see  everybody  that  drifts  this  way  anchored 
here  for  life.  It  certainly  is  the  town  for  fresh  young 
blood.  Even  old  men  can  make  money  here,  and  I 
know  the  young  can.  Set  down,  set  down!  I'm  glad 
you  ran  across  my  long-legged  jumping- jack  of  a  preach 
er.  He  is  a  wheel-horse,  I  am  here  to  state.  If  all  the 
churches  in  the  world  were  led  by  men  of  his  stamp, 
infidelity  would  die  of  the  dry  rot  or  burn  up  with  shame. 
I  built  Matthews'  meeting-house,  and  if  I  hadn't  found 
a  man  like  him  to  fill  the  pulpit  I'd  have  turned  the 
blamed  thing  into  a  warehouse  to  store  groceries  in. 
But  I  found  him,  and  he's  doing  mighty  well — mighty 
well!  He  isn't  any  of  your  ranting  trance  religionists; 
he's  practical,  and,  in  one  way,  the  funniest  cuss  you 
ever  laid  eyes  on.  Me  and  him  have  big  times  in  our 
way.  He  looks  after  the  souls  of  men  while  I  sometimes 
help  a  little  in  patching  up  their  bodies.  He  tells  me 
that  you  and  a  friend  of  yours  haven't  made  any  busi 
ness  connection  yet.  My  house  is  pretty  well  supplied, 
but  this  is  our  best  season  of  the  year,  and  a  good  man 
always  comes  in  handy.  You  look  like  you've  got  a 
good  head  on  them  broad  shoulders,  and  I  want  to  give 
you  a  start,  so  if  you  will  show  up  here  in  the  morning 
with  your  friend,  I'll  put  you  to  work  in  the  office  and 
stow  him  away  somewhere." 

"You  are  very,  very  kind,  Mr.  Whipple,"  Fred  said, 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

a  gratified  flush  on  his  face;  "but  you  have  had  no 
recommendation  of  me,  and — 

"  I  don't  want  none,"  the  merchant  said,  firmly. 
"  You  see,  I've  already  heard  about  you.  Long  before 
me  and  you  met  you  had  cast  your  bread  on  the  water, 
and  it  has  already  come  back.  I've  heard  about  you. 
Anybody  these  days  can  bring  a  scrap  of  paper  with 
indorsements  scribbled  on  it,  but  the  best  recommenda 
tion  is  the  sort  that  crawls  along  ahead  of  a  fellow.  Yes, 
I've  heard  about  you,  and,  to  be  plain,  that's  why  I 
sent  for  you.  Even  if  I  didn't  have  no  opening  right  now, 
it  would  pay  me  to  rub  against  men  that — well,  that  be 
lieve  like  you  do  and  act  like  you  have  acted." 

"I  suppose  you  mean" — Walton  was  quite  embar 
rassed  now — "  I  suppose  Mr.  Matthews  has  been  speak 
ing  of  what  my  friend  told  him  of  our  ups-and-downs 
together;  but  really  I  couldn't  let  that  sort  of  thing 
stand  as  an  indorsement  of  me,  Mr.  Whipple.  Dick 
is  young  and  enthusiastic.  It  seems  that  he  has  never 
had  a  close  friend  before,  and  he  naturally  exaggerates 
my — 

"  Say,  look  here,"  the  merchant  broke  in,  with  a  smile, 
"you  really  don't  know  how  funny  that  sounds.  In 
this  day  and  time,  when  a  man  in  my  position  has  to  set 
and  listen  to  folks  spout  for  the  hour  about  how  good 
and  worthy  they  are,  why — well,  to  see  a  chap  actually 
denying  the  favorable  things  which  have  been  said  be 
hind  his  back  is  a  downright  curiosity.  Why,  the  very 
fact  that  you  are  talking  this  way  shows  plain  enough 
what  you  are.  Along  with  what  I've  picked  up  about 
you  and  the — the  general  look  of  you,  now  that  you  are 
at  close  range — why,  if  you  was  to  lay  down  a  whole 
batch  of  written  recommendations  I'd  chuck  'em  in  that 
stove.  I'm  a  judge  of  human  faces  and  of  men,  and  I 
know  you  mean  well,  and  that  is  all  I  ask." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you,  Mr.  Whipple,"  Walton  said, 

134 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

his  glance  on  the  floor.  "  I  feel  like  we  could  get  on  to 
gether.  I  know  I'd  do  my  best  to  please  you." 

"Well,  then,  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said,"  old 
Whipple  answered.  "  Bring  that  boy  in  to-morrow 
morning,  and  we'll  make  some  sort  o'  a  start." 

Fred  sat  silent.  He  took  a  deep  breath  and  raised 
his  eyes  to  the  genial  face  in  the  green  light.  "  I  must 
be  frank  and  open  with  a  man  as  generous  as  you  are, 
Mr.  Whipple.  If  I  am  to  work  here  we  ought  to  under 
stand  each  other  thoroughly.  There  are  some  things 
which  you  must  know  about  me,  or  I  cannot  consent  to 
enter  your  employment,  for  it  would  be  deceiving  you." 

"Oh,  that's  it!"  Whipple  said,  awkwardly.  "Still, 
you  mustn't  feel  that  I  am  requiring  any  explanations 
of — of  a  private  nature,  for  I  am  not." 

"  You  ought  to  know  more  than  you  do  know  about 
me,  at  all  events,"  Walton  went  on.  "I'd  feel  better 
if  nothing  at  all  was  hidden  from  your  knowledge.  I 
haven't  lived  right,  Mr.  Whipple.  I  went  wrong — 
frightfully  wrong.  I  got  in  debt — it  is  worse  than  that. 
I  misappropriated  a  considerable  sum  of  money  belong 
ing  to  my  father.  He  is  a  stern,  hard  man,  and  de 
manded  as  much  of  me  as  he  would  have  done  of  a 
stranger.  I  left  home  to  escape  arrest.  You  may 
think  I  ought  to  have  submitted  to  the  law.  I  simply 
couldn't,  for  I  felt  that  my  father,  when  his  passion 
cooled,  would  regret  his  step,  and,  moreover,  I  felt  that, 
with  my  freedom,  I  could  apply  myself  and  eventually 
restore  the  loss." 

"Merciful  Father!"  Whipple  exclaimed,  fervently. 
"  Lord  have  mercy!  To  think  of  a  man  blessed  with  a 
son  holding  the  law  over  his  repentant  head  and  chas 
ing  him  from  spot  to  spot  over  God's  green  earth!  The 
child  he  brought  into  the  world  and  saw  cooing  in  the 
cradle,  a  little,  tiny  sprout  of  his  own  flesh  and  blood, 
made  in  the  image  of  the  Lord  God  of  Hosts!  My  boy," 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

the  old  man  leaned  forward,  "shake  hands  with  me. 
I've  often  wanted  to  help  young  men  in  my  stormy  life, 
but,  God  knows,  I  never  felt  the  desire  as  strong  as  I  do 
now.  Just  in  this  little  talk  I've  been  drawn  more  close 
ly  to  you  than  I  ever  was  to  a  human  being  before.  You 
are  the  right  sort,  the  genuine  thing ;  if  I  was  to  turn  you 
adrift,  I'd  never  get  over  it.  '  I  had  a  boy  once,  and  I 
doted  on  him,  He  died  when  he  was  a  little  toddling 
fellow,  and  since  then  I  have  never  been  consoled.  But 
his  loss,  and  the  memory  of  him,  has  warmed  my  heart 
to  young  men  wherever  I  meet  them.  You  must  come 
to  me,  my  boy.  I  feel  sure  we'll  pull  together.  In  fact, 
I'd  want  you  at  hand,  for  I'd  grieve  to  see  you  falter 
in  your  noble  undertaking.  God  will  bless  your  effort 
as  sure  as  the  stars  are  shining  up  there  in  the  heavens 
to-night." 

"I  haven't  told  you  quite  all  yet,"  Walton  added, 
in  a  low  tone.  "To  protect  myself,  I  took  another 
name.  My  real  name  is — " 

"Stop!  Don't  tell  me.  That  won't  make  one  bit 
of  difference  to  me,"  Whipple  answered,  with  a  sigh, 
as  if  he  were  thinking  more  of  the  young  man's  former 
revelations  than  the  one  just  made.  "  No  doubt  it  is 
best.  You  say  you  have  determined  to  make  good  the 
loss,  and  if  bearing  another  name  will  help  you  out, 
then  it  can't  be  wrong.  Go  ahead,  I'll  be  your  friend; 
I'll  stick  to  you.  I'm  glad  we  came  together  to-night. 
It  makes  me  feel  better.  I've  seen  many  sorts  of  human 
struggles,  but  I  never  saw  one  that  touched  me  down 
deep  like  yours  does.  Wait,  let  me  lock  up,  and  I'll 
walk  along  a  piece  with  you." 

Outside,  after  he  had  closed  the  heavy  door,  the  mer 
chant  put  his  hand  on  the  arm  of  his  companion,  and 
they  moved  on  down  the  street  together.  Suddenly 
they  paused.  Whipple  swept  his  fat  hand  in  a  slow 
gesture  toward  the  skies. 

136 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"My  boy,"  he  said,  fervently,  "this  is  a  wonderful, 
wonderful  old  world.  Life  seems  hard  and  harsh  at 
times,  but  when  the  soul  is  right  a  man  can  conquer 
anything.  I  have  my  fight  to  make;  you  have  yours 
— stick  to  it,  and  may  the  Lord  be  with  you!  Good 
night."  . 


PART  II 


CHAPTER    I 

\LD  Stafford  had  changed  wonderfully 
in  the  six  years  which  passed  after  Fred 
Walton's  flight.  The  building  of  Presi 
dent  Gait's  trunk-line  to  the  sea  had 
'marked  the  turning-point  in  the  town's 
_j  career.  The  older  portion  of  the  place 
remained  quite  as  it  was,  but  new  suburbs  and  new 
centres  of  commerce  had  sprung  up  beyond  the  old  in 
corporated  limits.  Where  farms,  fields,  and  pastures  had 
once  been,  now  lay  even,  well-graded,  and  electric-lighted 
streets.  No  small  city  in  the  South  had  a  better  freight- 
rate  to  all  points,  and  this  had  brought  about  the  es 
tablishment  of  various  manufacturing  enterprises  which 
had  greatly  increased  the  population.  The  clang  and 
clatter  of  new  growth  was  in  the  air;  speculation  in 
building-sites  was  rife.  The  modest  price  of  one  day 
was  the  jest  of  the  next.  Owning  a  great  deal  of  the 
land  along  the  new  railway,  General  Sylvester  was  now 
more  wealthy  than  ever,  and  the  new  interest  in  life 
had  given  him  back  his  youth  and  health. 

As  for  Kenneth  Gait,  he  had  scarcely  spent  a  day  in 
the  town  of  his  birth  since  his  hurried  journey  to  New 
York  to  meet  the  capitalists  whose  co-operation  had 
made  the  road  a  certainty.  His  explanation  to  Sylvester 
was  that  other  points  on  the  long  line  constantly  de 
manded  his  attention.  His  old  home  was  still  cared  for 
by  Mrs.  Wilson  as  housekeeper  and  John  Dilk  as  gar 
dener,  and  now  and  then  a  false  report  had  emanated 

141 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

from  these  proud  and  worshipful  menials  that  the  dis 
tinguished  owner  was  coming  back  to  reside  there  per 
manently.  Indeed,  he  had  promised  General  Sylvester 
to  do  so  time  after  time,  only  to  make  more  delays  and 
more  excuses. 

"He's  coming  this  time  sure,"  the  old  soldier  said  to 
his  nephew  on  the  veranda  one  day  in  the  early  part 
of  the  present  summer.  "  I  had  a  letter  from  him  this 
morning,  in  which  he  promised  to  come  and  spend  the 
hot  weather  here  and  take  a  good  long  rest.  Mrs.  Wil 
son  said,  also,  that  he  had  written  her  about  renovating 
his  rooms,  so  I  reckon  it  is  settled.  And  when  he  comes 
you  will  see  that  I  was  right  about  my  prophecy  con 
cerning  him  and  Madge.  He's  a  woman-hater,  they  say 
— won't  have  a  thing  to  do  with  society;  and,  quiet  and 
reserved  as  your  sister  is,  the  two  will  naturally  drift 
together.  I'll  be  glad  to  have  him  back.  That  shady 
old  place,  with  its  early  associations,  will  fairly  make 
him  over.  When  I  spent  that  week  with  him  in  Sa 
vannah  I  naturally  expected  to  find  him  at  the  top  of 
the  social  heap,  but  he  went  nowhere  at  all,  and  even 
seemed  to  shun  the  men  who  extended  courtesies  to  him. 
He's  had  too  big  a  load  on  him;  his  face  shows  wrinkles, 
and  his  hair  is  turning  at  the  temples." 

"Yes,  he  is  a  strange  chap,"  Dealing  answered.  "I 
have  been  thrown  with  him  in  Atlanta  several  times  of 
late,  and  while  he  really  seemed  glad  to  see  me,  and 
was  cordial  enough,  in  a  way,  I  couldn't  exactly  make 
him  out.  As  usual,  I  found  him  moping  over  his  favor 
ite  books,  and  every  bit  as  anxious,  as  of  old,  to  prove 
that  the  grave  ends  everything.  That  will  ruin  any 
man,  Uncle  Tom.  When  a  fellow  actually  gets  to  fight 
ing  the  belief  that  we  are  more  than  sticks  and  stones 
he  can't  rise  very  high  in  any  spiritual  sense.  Why, 
Kenneth  has  even  reached  the  point  of  defending  some 
of  the  lowest  things  that  men  do.  He  and  I  were  walk- 

142 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

ing  away  out  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city  one  night.  He 
had  asked  me  to  go,  because  he  wanted  to  avoid  some 
clubmen  who  were  bent  on  having  him  preside  at  a 
banquet  given  by  the  Chamber  of  Commerce.  We  were 
all  alone,  and  it  was  dark.  He  had  asked  me,  I  remem 
ber,  if  any  news  had  come  as  to  the  whereabouts  of 
Fred  Walton,  and  I  had  told  him  that  nothing  at  all 
had  been  heard  except  that  his  father  had  cut  him  off 
forever.  To  my  astonishment,  Kenneth  actually  sighed. 
Then  I  distinctly  heard  him  muttering  to  himself :  '  Poor 
fellow.  Poor  chap!  He's  been  treated  like  a  dog!'" 

"Huh,  the  idea!"  Sylvester  broke  in.  "Well,  that's 
like  Kenneth.  He  is  always  ready  to  take  up  for  some 
body  or  something  that  no  one  else  believes  in." 

"Well,  feeling  as  I  did,  and  knowing  what  I  do  of 
the  case,"  Bearing  continued,  warmly,  "  I  couldn't  hold 
my  tongue.  I  didn't  leave  a  grain  of  sand  for  Fred 
Walton  to  stand  on,  and  it  made  me  hot  for  Gait  not 
to  agree  with  me.  He  made  some  weak  remark  about 
men  obeying  natural  laws,  and  being  cursed  with  un 
controllable  passions,  and  the  like;  but  I  flatter  myself 
that  I  silenced  him.  I  gave  him  a  picture  of  that  beau 
tiful  girl's  isolated  life  with  her  son  and  old  mother, 
wholly  ostracized  in  the  only  community  they  had  ever 
known  or  loved.  I  saw,  then,  that  I  had  touched  his 
sympathies  in  another  direction. 

" '  You  think,'  he  said,  '  that  Walton  ought,  even 
now,  to  go  back  and  marry  her — at  this  late  date?" 

"  I  told  him  that  I  had  grave  doubts  as  to  whether  a 
woman  who  had  suffered  as  she  had  at  a  man's  hands 
would  ever  want  to  see  her  betrayer  again,  and  he  an 
swered  that  he  felt  sure  she  wouldn't.  Then  he  asked 
about  the  boy.  You  know,  he  was  always  fond  of  chil 
dren — that  is  one  redeeming  quality  he  has,  and  it  makes 
me  hope  that  he  isn't  so  heartless  as  he  would  have  us 
believe.  He  listened  attentively  to  all  I  said  about 

143 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Lionel,  even  asking  me  questions  as  to  how  the  child 
looked  and  how  he  amused  himself.  When  I  told  him 
that  the  little  fellow  was  completely  cut  off  from  other 
children,  and  that  his  association  only  with  his  mother 
and  grandmother  had  made  him  act  and  speak  more  like 
an  older  person  than  a  child,  he  seemed  actually  shocked. 
'You  don't  mean  to  tell  me,'  he  said,  'that  the  peo 
ple  of  old  Stafford  would  turn  against  a  helpless  child 
because  of  any  fault  or  mistake  of  its  parents!' 

"  I  explained  to  him  that  it  was  mostly  due  to  the 
pride  of  his  mother,  and  to  the  natural  fear  that  such 
an  intelligent  boy,  and  one  so  sensitive  and  observant 
as  he  is,  might  learn  of  his  misfortune  and  suffer  from 
it.  That  conversation  raised  Kenneth  Gait  in  my  esti 
mation,  Uncle  Tom.  I  know  now  that  he  has  true  feel 
ing  and  sympathy  for  the  unfortunate,  and  that  his  am 
bition  is  not  all  there  is  to  him." 

"  I  must  confess  that  the  child  has  greatly  interested 
me,"  the  General  said.  "From  my  window  I  can  see 
him  playing  in  that  narrow  yard,  always  dressed  neatly, 
and  as  strong  and  straight  as  an  Indian  in  his  bearing. 
I  have  never  seen  him  outside  the  fence.  I  have  stopped 
to  speak  to  him  once  or  twice  in  passing,  and  have  been 
actually  charmed  by  his  face  and  manner.  I  don't 
think  I  ever  heard  of  a  case  exactly  like  his.  Of  course, 
there  have  been  thousands  of  children  born  like  that 
in  straitlaced  communities,  but  I  never  heard  of  one 
being  brought  up  in  that  prison-like  way.  It  surely  is 
wrong,  and  it  will  make  the  truth  all  the  harder  to  bear 
when  it  does  come  out,  as  it  must  sooner  or  later.  She 
is  a  wonderful  woman — I  started  to  say  girl,  for  she 
seems  almost  like  a  child  to  me  with  that  sad,  young 
face,  and  wistful,  artistic  beauty.  I  have  met  her  mother 
on  the  street  a  few  times,  her  old  face  thickly  veiled, 
but  I  have  not  seen  Dora  or  the  child  away  from  the 
cottage." 

144 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"As  their  family  doctor,"  said  Bearing,  "I  urged 
Dora  to  go  out  herself  for  exercise  and  to  take  the  boy 
with  her.  At  first  she  flatly  refused.  I  frightened  her, 
however,  by  saying  that  the  constant  confinement  would 
injure  Lionel's  health.  Since  then  she  has  taken  him 
with  her  in  fine  weather  when  she  goes  sketching  in  the 
woods  and  swamp  back  of  the  cottage,  but  she  is  as  shy 
as  a  fawn  about  it.  I  venture  to  say  that  no  one  has 
ever  met  her  on  those  excursions.  I've  seen  mother- 
love,  Uncle  Tom,  in  all  its  phases.  I've  met  it  at  the 
death-beds  of  scores  of  children,  but  the  love  between 
that  unfortunate  mother  and  child  is  the  prettiest  thing 
on  earth.  No  pair  of  lovers  were  ever  more  constant 
and  affectionate.  Lionel  is  really  a  sort  of  psychological 
oddity  in  his  way.  I  have  a  theory  that  the  mother's 
morbid  suffering  was  in  some  prenatal  way  stamped  on 
her  offspring.  He  is  queerly  supersensitive  for  one  so 
young,  and  seems  constantly  afraid  that  he  won't  be 
liked.  He  is  rather  fond  of  me — perhaps  it  is  because 
I'm  the  only  visitor  at  the  house;  and  when  I  take  him 
in  my  lap  to  hold  him,  I  can  see  that  he  enjoys  it  as  if 
it  were  an  unusual  luxury.  He  closes  his  eyes  some 
times  and  smiles,  and  says  he  wants  to  go  to  sleep  that 
way.  Then  he  will  ask  me  over  and  over  again  if  I 
love  him.  After  being  told  that  I  do,  he  will  detect  some 
slight  change  in  my  face  or  voice  and  cry  out,  '  Now,  you 
don't  like  me — do  you?'  I  am  not  sentimental,  Uncle 
Tom,  but  that  little  chap's  condition  has  worried  me  a 
lot.  I  pity  him  as  I've  never  pitied  a  human  being 
before." 

"  I  have  often  wondered  whether  Madge  has  taken 
notice  of  him,"  General  Sylvester  remarked,  reflectively. 
"A  woman  is  hard  to  read  on  the  surface,  and  while 
Madge  never  mentions  Fred  Walton's  name  any  more 
than  if  he  were  dead,  I've  been  afraid  that  the  mere 
sight  of  his  child  might  keep  the  old  memory  alive. 

145 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Do  you  know,  my  son,  a  woman  will  condone  exactly 
that  failing  in  a  man  more  quickly  than  any  other?  I 
suppose  they  lay  most  of  the  blame  on  the  woman 
in  the  case.  A  high-strung  creature  like  your  sister 
wouldn't  for  a  moment  consider  herself  a  rival  of  a  fallen 
woman,  and  it  may  be  that  the  explanation  of  her  never 
having  shown  interest  in  other  men  is  that — " 

"That  she  still  cares  for  the  rascal?"  Dealing  broke 
in,  his  face  darkening. 

"  Yes,  and  that  she  still  clings  to  some  sort  of  faith  in 
his  constancy,"  the  General  added.  "You  can't  crush 
love  in  a  woman's  heart  so  long  as  she  believes  she  is 
loved  by  a  man  who  is  longing  for  her  and  is  kept  away 
by  adverse  circumstances.  You  see,  if  our  dear  girl  at 
tributes  Walton's  predicament  to  a  simple  act  of  low, 
impulsive  passion,  and  believes  that  he  loved  her,  and 
her  alone,  in  a  pure  way,  why — " 

"I  see,  I  see,  and  I  am  afraid  you  may  be  right," 
Dearing  said,  bitterly.  "And  instead  of  curing  her, 
the  scoundrel's  absence  is  only  making  the  thing  worse. 
Did  you  tell  her  about  Kenneth's  coming?" 

"  Yes,  only  an  hour  ago,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  she 
was  rather  pleased.  She  remarked  that  she  was  glad 
John  Dilk  had  kept  up  the  place  so  well,  and  that  the 
flowers  would  gratify  him.  I  really  fancied  that  she 
was  more  pleased  by  the  news  than  she  was  willing  to 
show,  for  she  changed  the  subject  by  offering  to  play 
for  me." 

At  this  juncture  a  woman  came  round  the  house  hur 
riedly,  wiping  her  red,  bare  arms,  and  trying  to  adjust 
the  damp  dress  she  wore.  It  was  Mrs.  Chumley,  the 
washerwoman.  Her  tawny  hair  was  disarranged,  and  her 
fat,  freckled  face  flushed  with  an  excitement  that  was 
almost  pleasurable. 

"Oh,  here  you  are,  Doctor  Wynn!"  she  panted.  "I 
hain't  been  told  to  come;  in  fact,  them  highfalutin' 

146 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

neighbors  of  mine  never  let  a  body  know  anything  they 
can  get  out  of.  But  Mrs.  Barry  is  having  another  of  her 
falling  spells.  She  was  on  the  side  porch  brushing 
little  Lionel's  head  when  I  heard  her  cry  out  to  Dora 
for  help,  and  then  she  struck  the  floor  of  the  kitchen 
with  a  thump  you  could  have  heard  up  here  if  you'd 
been  listening." 

"Well,  I'll  run  down,"  Bearing  said  to  his  uncle. 
"  It  may  not  be  very  serious.  She  is  subject  to  such 
attacks." 


CHAPTER    II 

'URRYING  down  through  the  grounds, 
and  vaulting  over  the  low  boundary 
fence,  Bearing  approached  the  gate  of 
the  Barry  cottage  just  as  Dora  came 
out.  Pretty  as  she  had  been  in  girl 
hood,  she  was  rarely  beautiful  as  a  fully 
developed  woman.  And  to-day,  as  ever,  Bearing  stood 
before  her  in  absolute  awe  of  her  rare,  exquisite,  and 
appealing  personality. 

"She's  had  another  attack,  Wynn!"  Bora  said,  with 
a  brave  effort  to  steady  her  faltering  voice.  "  I  really 
thought  she  was  dying,  and  I  suppose  I  screamed.  She 
looked  so  bad  for  a  few  moments!  Her  face  turned 
purple,  and  she  lost  consciousness.  She  came  to  her 
self  a  moment  ago,  and  is  still'  awake.  Will  you  see 
her?" 

He  went  to  the  sick  woman's  room  on  tiptoe.  Seated 
in  a  chair  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  and  waving  a  palm- 
leaf  fan  to  and  fro,  to  keep  the  flies  from  his  grand 
mother's  face,  was  Lionel,  his  great,  serious  eyes,  so  like 
his  mother's,  filled  with  anxiety.  He  rose  as  Bearing 
entered,  and  moved  round  to  the  other  side  of  the  bed, 
but  he  still  waved  the  fan  and  stood  staring  anxiously. 
"  I  thought  I  was  gone  that  time,  Boctor  Wynn," 
Mrs.  Barry  said,  with  a  wan  smile,  as  he  took  her  hand 
to  test  her  pulse. 

"  Well,  you  certainly  are  far  from  it  now,"  he  laughed, 
reassuringly.  "  I  believe  it  would  take  a  regiment  of 

148 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

soldiers  to  put  you  out  of  business.  That  was  only  a 
fainting  spell  brought  on  by  too  close  confinement  to 
the  house.  You  must  get  out  more ;  that's  all  you  need. 
Now,  take  a  good  nap  and  you  will  be  all  right."  He 
nodded  and  smiled  reassuringly  at  Dora,  who  stood  at 
the  foot  of  the  bed.  She  followed  him  from  the  room, 
seeing  that  he  wished  to  speak  to  her. 

"  She  is  all  right  now,"  he  told  her.  "  She  is  doing 
very  well.  It  is  only  a  sluggish  liver,  due  to  lack  of 
exercise.  Let  her  sleep  as  long  as  she  will  now,  and 
I'll  send  you  a  tonic  which  will  brace  her  up.  There  is 
nothing  really  to  fear.  She  has  a  splendid  constitution 
in  all  other  respects." 

Dora  sank  into  a  chair  as  if  utterly  overcome  with 
relief,  and  he  stood  looking  at  her  in  blended  admira 
tion  and  sympathy. 

Aside  from  her  beauty  of  face  and  form,  there  was  a 
ripeness  of  intellect  and  character  in  her  face,  which  had 
come  to  her  from  the  years  of  isolated  suffering  which 
she  had  undergone. 

"  You  are  so  kind  to  me,  Wynn,"  she  said,  with  a 
faint,  sad  smile.  "You  have  always  been  the  best 
friend  we  ever  had." 

"Why,  what  are  you  talking  about?"  Dearing  said, 
lightly  and  with  a  flush.  "Any  other  jack-leg  country 
doctor  would  have  taken  care  of  you  fully  as  well." 

"  You  have  done  hundreds  of  thoughtful  things," 
she  cried.  "  You  have  left  nothing  undone  that  could 
possibly  help  us.  Oh,  you  are  too  good!  You  haven't 
allowed  my  poor  mother  to  pay  you  one  penny  for 
your  services  in  all  these  years.  She  has  tried  and  tried 
to  make  you  take  it  till  she  has  almost  given  up  in 
despair." 

"  I  haven't  done  anything  really  worth  while,  Dora," 
he  said,  lightly.  "  You  see,  you  live  right  at  hand,  too, 
and  it  is  no  trouble  at  all  to  jump  over  your  fence  and 

149 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

mine.  I  couldn't  take  money  from  a  next-door  neigh 
bor  under  those  circumstances.  You  just  wait  until 
you  really  need  a  doctor,  and  then  I'll  send  in  a  bill  as 
long  as  my  arm." 

"  You  can't  help  being  good,"  Dora  said,  feelingly, 
her  wonderful  violet  eyes  rilling.  "Your  great  heart 
simply  went  out  to  us  in  our  trouble,  and  you  have 
determined  to  help  us  in  every  way  possible.  Mother 
thinks  all  the  world  of  you,  and  Lionel  actually  believes 
you  are  some  sort  of  god." 

"  Well,  he's  badly  fooled,  I  tell  you!"  Bearing  laughed. 
"But  speaking  of  him,  I  must  lecture  you  good  and 
hard.  You  are  not  treating  the  child  at  all  right.  He 
oughtn't  to  be  cooped  up  here  in  this  little  yard  like  he 
is.  It  is  too  small.  A  growing  boy  like  that  needs 
room,  and  plenty  of  it." 

"Oh,  you  don't  understand!"  Dora  sighed,  while  a 
look  of  deepest  pain  tortured  her  mobile  face.  "  I 
couldn't  bear  to  have  him  running  around  a  neighbor 
hood  as — as  heartless  as  this  one  is.  He  is  so  observant, 
and  has  such  an  inquiring  mind,  and  people  are  so — so 
cruel,  so  utterly  unforgiving.  But  you  are  trying  to 
change  the  subject.  You  think  I  have  no  money  with 
which  to  pay  a  doctor's  bill."  She  laughed  suddenly 
and  mysteriously  as  she  went  on:  "I  believe  I'll  let  you 
into  a  secret.  I'll  show  you  something.  Come  into  the 
parlor." 

She  led  him,  with  graceful  step  and  bearing,  through 
the  little  central  passage  of  the  cottage  to  the  parlor 
door,  and  they  entered  together.  She  laughed  like  a 
merry  child;  it  was  the  sweet,  rippling  laugh  he  remem 
bered  so  well  as  belonging  to  his  youth  and  hers,  as  she 
pointed  to  the  easel  before  a  window.  On  it  was  a  good 
water-color  picture  of  a  child  at  play  on  the  grass  near 
a  stream,  with  a  pastoral  scene  sketched  in  the  back 
ground. 

150 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Oh,"  he  "exclaimed,  admiringly,  "that's  the  best 
you've  shown  me!  It  is  very,  very  good." 

"That's  only  one  of  many,"  she  said,  shrugging  her 
shoulders.  "I  wanted  something  to  occupy  my  mind 
after  I  gave  up  music,  and  I  began  these  studies  merely 
as  an  experiment.  I  worked  for  a  year  while  Lionel 
was  a  baby  just  to — you  know,  Wynn — just  to  forget!" 

He  was  silent,  being  unable  to  formulate  any  reply 
that  was  appropriate  to  the  delicate  situation,  and  she 
went  on  simply,  and  still  in  the  winsome  tone  which  had 
always  appealed  to  him  so  strongly. 

"  Then — now  conies  the  best  part — one  day  I  happened 
to  read  the  advertisement  of  an  Atlanta  dealer  who  was 
in  need  of  such  things,  and  I  forwarded  some  sketches  I 
had  done.  They  were  bad — oh,  so  bad — and  he  wrote 
that  he  would  not  offer  them  to  his  customers,  but  he 
encouraged  me  to  keep  on.  Then  I  worked  harder,  and 
finally  I  sent  him  some  pictures  of  children — little  pick 
aninnies,  brown  as  chestnuts,  little  white  ragamuffins, 
babies  in  old-fashioned,  crude,  box-cradles  like  the 
mountain  people  have,  and  he  sold  them.  Think  of 
that!  He  actually  sold  them!  I  have  not  signed  any 
of  them.  He  has  written  me  several  times  begging  that 
I  should  do  so,  but  I  have  always  refused.  He  has 
agreed  not  to  use  my  name  at  all,  and  I  believe  he  has 
kept  his  word.  The  whole  thing  has  made  me — almost 
happy.  Wynn,  I  saw  your  face  after  your  first  success 
ful  operation,  and  didn't  understand  then  what  it  meant 
to  you,  but  I  do  now.  The  day  that  dealer's  letter  came, 
and  his  money  followed  by  express,  in  a  big  wax-sealed 
envelope — well,  it  was  the  happiest  moment  of  my  life. 
I  sang;  I  talked  to  myself;  I  danced.  I  told  Baby  all 
about  it  as  I  hugged  him  in  my  arms.  I  had,  as  they 
say,  discovered  myself.  Here  I  was,  cut  off  from  inter 
course  with  everybody  in  my  home  town,  but  God 
hadn't  wholly  forsaken  me.  He  had  given  me  some- 
ii  151 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

thing  to  make  up  for  what  I'd  lost — a  way  of  speaking 
to  the  big  outer  world." 

"  I  see,  and  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart," 
Bearing  said,  as  he  stood  watching  the  shifting  tones  in 
her  expressive  face.  "  I  understand  you  better  now. 
I  got  in  the  habit  of  listening  for  your  piano  at  night, 
when  everything  was  still,  and  I  fancied  I  could  read 
your  various  moods.  A  long  time  ago  you  played  too 
sadly;  really  it  used  to  get  next  to  me,  and  make  me 
worry  about  you;  but  of  late  there  has  been  more  hope 
and  cheerfulness  in  your  music,  and  it  did  me  a  lot  of 
good.  I  understand  you  better  now.  I  have  always 
thought  that  creative  work  was  the  most  satisfying 
and  uplifting  occupation  possible,  and  now  I  am  sure 
of  it." 

"And  I  am  getting  better  and  better  prices,  too," 
Dora  said,  modestly.  "  My  agent  sends  my  things 
everywhere,  even  to  far-off  New  York  and  Boston.  I 
don't  do  them  so  fast  now,  for  I  try  harder  and  I  think 
they  are  better.  Now,  you  will  send  me  your  bill, 
won't  you  ?" 

"  I  shall  certainly  be  hoping  that  somebody  will  get 
really  sick  under  this  roof,"  he  laughed,  evasively,  "for 
I'd  like  to  get  a  whack  at  your  roll  of  cash,  but  so  far 
my  dealings  have  been  only  with  your  mother,  and  she 
doesn't  make  it  interesting.  She  was  good  to  me  when 
I  was  a  boy.  I  used  to  crawl  over  the  back  fence  when 
she  was  making  jelly  and  jam  in  the  kitchen,  and  I  col 
lected  some  fees  then  that  did  me  more  good  than  any 
I  have  since  received.  She  performed  the  first  surgical 
operation  on  me,  too,  that  I  ever  had.  I  was  barefoot, 
and  while  trying  to  hide  from  some  other  boys  I  stuck 
a  rusty  nail  through  my  big  toe.  She  heard  me  yelling 
and  came  to  my  assistance.  She  extracted  the  nail, 
washed  out  my  wound,  filled  it  with  turpentine — the 
only  household  antiseptic  used  in  that  day — and  bound 

152 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

it  up  for  me.  I  have  always  believed  that  she  saved 
me  from  lockjaw." 

"  The  opportunity  to  earn  money  means  more  to  me 
than  you  might  think,  Wynn,"  she  said,  her  eyes  light 
ing  up.  "  Do  you  know  what  my  dream  of  dreams  is  ? 
It  is  to  be  able  to  go  to  Paris,  and  take  Lionel  and  my 
mother.  She  has  always  wanted  to  go,  because  papa 
was  buried  there.  Do  you  know,  I  feel  that  away  off 
in  a  free,  art-loving  country  like  France  I  could  rear  my 
child  to  manhood  without  his  ever  knowing  about  his — 
his  history.  It  seems  to  me  that  God  has  given  me  this 
talent  for  that  particular  purpose.  The  only  trouble  is 
the  delay.  You  see,  it  may  be  years  before  I  can  save 
enough,  and  then  it  might  be  too  late." 

"I  see,  I  understand,"  Dearing  said,  gravely;  "and 
you'd  never  come  back  to  old  Stafford  again,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Oh  no,"  she  answered;  "all  this  would  have  to  be 
laid  aside  forever." 

"  I  shouldn't  like  to  see  you  go,"  he  said.  "  I  have — 
you  see,  I  have  become  attached  to  Lionel — he  and  I 
are  great  chums.  But  if  you  have  decided,  and  wish 
it  so  very  much,  why  not?  Look  here,  Dora,  I  have 
money  lying  idle  in  the  bank.  I  have  absolutely  no 
need  for  it,  and — " 

"Oh  no!"  she  cried.  "It  is  lovely  of  you  to  offer  it, 
but  I  couldn't  think  of  taking  it.  I  couldn't — I  really 
couldn't!" 

"Not  from  your  big  brother?"  he  asked,  his  pleading 
eyes  on  her. 

"  No,  not  even  from  you,  you  dear  boy.  It  is  my 
problem,  Wynn,  and  I  must  work  it  out  alone — all 
alone." 

They  had  gone  back  to  the  porch,  and  the  sight  of 
the  extensive  grounds  around  his  house  prompted  him 
to  say: 

"  I  know  now  why  you  don't  realize  Lionel's  need  for 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

more  fresh  air.  You  have  that  absorbing  occupation, 
and  it  keeps  you  from  putting  yourself  in  the  boy's 
place,  as  you  might  otherwise  do." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?"  she  asked,  quite  gravely.  "  It 
may  be  true,  Wynn,  and  yet  what  am  I  to  do  ?  I  really 
can't  bear  to  have  him  running  about,  meeting  other 
children.  I  could  never  answer  his  questions — never, 
never!  Some  one  would  have  to  watch  him,  and  mother 
and  I  both  shrink  from  going  out  in — in  public." 

"I  was  thinking  of  that,  too,"  Bearing  replied,  "and 
that  is  why  a  certain  plan  occurred  to  me.  There  is 
that  big  lot  of  mine  right  over  the  fence.  Nothing 
could  possibly  happen  to  him  there.  It  is  quiet,  and 
there  are  many  things  he  could  amuse  himself  with. 
It  is  really  like  a  little  farm,  you  know.  We  have 
chickens,  ducks,  turkeys,  puppies,  kittens,  pigs,  and 
horses,  and  even  a  cow  and  a  calf  about  the  barn,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  pigeons  that  nest  in  the  hay-loft.  To  a 
child,  judging  by  my  own  memory  of  boyhood,  it  would 
be  a  regular  paradise." 

"You  don't  mean  that  you  would  allow — that  you 
would — "  There  was  a  catch  in  the  young  mother's 
voice;  a  tinge  of  anxious  pallor  crept  into  her  appealing 
face.  "Oh,  Wynn,  you  are  too  kind!  You  are  think 
ing  only  of  helping  me.  There  is  your  uncle  and  your 
sister —  I  could  not  bear  to  trust  my  darling  where  he 
might  not  be — wanted." 

"  I  know  my  uncle  and  sister  better  than  you  do," 
Bearing  said.  "Margaret  has  never  seen  Lionel  that 
I  know  of,  but  she  would  love  to  make  him  happy.  As 
for  my  uncle,  he  greatly  admires  the  little  fellow,  and 
would  be  delighted  to  have  him  come  and  romp  over 
the  place  to  his  heart's  content." 

"Oh,  how  you  tempt  me!"  Bora  cried,  covering  her 
face  with  her  shapely  hands.  "  Of  all  things,  I  can  think 
of  nothing  right  now  that  I'd  like  better  than  that.  I 

154 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

have  been  trying  to  forget  Lionel's  confinement  in  this 
little  yard  and  house — trying  to  convince  myself  that 
he  is  wholly  happy  only  with  mother  and  me,  but  it  is 
no  use.  It  is  really  pitiful  to  think  of.  He  has  a  won 
derful  imagination,  and  he  sometimes  sits  here  on  the 
porch  and  tries  to  picture  to  himself  what  the  inside 
of  a  big  house  like  yours  is.  He  thinks  you  all  must 
be  kings  and  princes  like  those  in  the  fairy-tales  we  read 
to  him.  He  asked  me  one  day  if  we'd  ever  have  a 
home  like  yours,  and  when  I  told  him  I  didn't  think 
so,  he  answered,  'Then  God  isn't  so  very  good,  after 
all,  is  He?'  I  tried  to  get  him  to  explain  what  he 
meant,  but  he  only  shook  his  head  and  went  to  play  in 
the  yard." 

At  this  moment  the  boy  himself  came  from  his  grand 
mother's  room,  along  the  passage,  and  out  to  them. 

"She  is  still  asleep,"  he  announced,  gravely.  "I 
drew  the  netting  over  her  face,  so  that  the  flies  won't 
wake  her." 

"That's  right — that's  a  good  boy."  Bearing  rested 
his  strong  hand  on  the  golden  head  and  looked  down 
into  the  child's  face,  and  then  he  laughed  as  he  caught 
the  boy's  arm  and  taught  him  how  to  contract  his 
muscles. 

"You'll  be  able  to  protect  yourself,  young  man,"  he 
said.  "  You  have  a  splendid  arm  and  fist  already. 
I'd  hate  to  have  those  knuckles  try  to  knock  a  fly  off 
my  nose  and  miss  the  fly.  Say,  kid,  do  you  see  that 
big  lot  of  mine  beyond  the  fence  ?  Well,  you  are  going 
to  play  over  there  from  morning  to  night:  climb  the 
trees,  build  houses  out  of  that  pile  of  old  bricks.  I'm 
going  to  have  a  swing  put  up  for  you  to  the  highest 
limb  of  that  big  oak,  and  I'll  make  you  a  see-saw  and  a 
flying- jinny,  and  you  may  feed  my  puppies  and  cats." 

The  boy's  eyes  danced  as  he  stared  eagerly.  Dora 
was  looking  away,  her  handkerchief  pressed  to  her  face. 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Dearing  saw  a  wave  of  emotion  pass  through  her,  but 
she  remained  silent. 

"  But  I  couldn't  go  over  there!"  Lionel  sighed.  "  You 
are  very  kind,  but  my  mother  always  wants  me  to  stay 
at  home." 

"  She  is  going  to  let  you  come,  because  I  asked  it  as 
a  special  favor  to  me,"  Dearing  answered.  "  I'm  the 
doctor,  you  know,  and  my  orders  go  on  this  ranch." 

Wonderingly,  the  boy  leaned  across  his  mother's  lap, 
and  put  his  arm  around  her  neck. 

" Is  he  joking,  mother  dear?"  he  inquired,  and  he  held 
his  breath  in  visible  suspense.  "  Does  he  really  mean 
that  I  may  play  over  there?" 

"  Would  you  like  it,  darling  boy  ?"  Dora  asked.  There 
was  a  tremolo  in  her  voice,  and  she  kept  her  handker 
chief  to  her  eyes.  The  child  started,  looked  suspicious 
ly  at  Dearing,  and  then,  leaning  toward  his  mother,  he 
firmly  uncovered  her  face.  He  saw  traces  of  tears,  and 
stood  erect.  There  was  a  fierce,  angry  flare  in  his  eyes, 
his  lower  lip  quivered,  as  he  turned  upon  Dearing  and 
blurted  out: 

"She  is  crying!     What  did  you  say  to  her?" 

"Oh,  I  see!"  Dearing  jested.  "You  want  to  have  it 
out  with  me,  do  you?  Well,  you  pick  your  weapons, 
old  chap,  and  I'll  be  your  man.  I  won't  take  a  dare  from 
you  or  anybody  else." 

Dora's  arms  enfolded  her  child  and  pressed  his  hot 
cheek  passionately  to  hers.  "  Yes,  I  was  crying,  my 
baby,"  she  gulped,  "but  it  is  because  I  am  so  happy. 
It  is  very  good  of  Doctor  Wynn  to  ask  you  to  go.  Would 
you  like  it?" 

"  If  you  wished  me  to,"  the  boy  replied,  slowly,  as  he 
still  uneasily  studied  her  face. 

"  I  should  like  it  very  much,"  Dora  said — "  very,  very 
much!  You  could  have  such  a  splendid  time  over 
there." 

156 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  Would  you  love  me  just  the  same — fust  exactly  the 
same — if  I  went?"  the  boy  asked,  anxiously. 

"Just  exactly  the  same."  Dora  laughed  as  she  caught 
Bearing's  glance,  and  remarked  to  him,  in  an  undertone: 
"  He  is  such  a  strange  child!  Mother  says  she  has  never 
seen  one  so  peculiarly  sensitive  and  concerned  over 
trifles.  He  often  comes  in  from  his  play  for  nothing 
else  than  to  ask  me  if  I  still  love  him.  The  slightest 
change  in  my  manner  or  tone  of  voice  always  brings  out 
that  one  question.  It  is  the  last  thing  at  night  and  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning.  If  I  am  at  all  impatient  with 
him,  when  I  am  absorbed  in  my  work,  he  will  come  and 
sit  on  the  floor  at  my  feet,  and  nothing  will  satisfy  him 
till  I  have  taken  him  in  my  arms  and  said  over  and  over 
again  that  I  love  him." 

"It  is  his  nature,"  Bearing  said,  as  he  was  turning  to 
leave.  "  Well,  remember,  my  boy,  that  my  gate  is  not 
locked,  and  if  you  don't  come  over  in  my  big  lot,  I'll 
come  and  ride  you  there  on  my  back,  like  a  two-legged 
horse ;  and  I  might  get  scared  and  kick  up  my  heels  and 
dump  you  over  on  your  head." 


CHAPTER    III 

>NE  warm,  fair  afternoon  in  May,  Ken 
neth  Gait,  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of 
General  Sylvester,  came  home.  Under 
big  captions  the  Stafford  papers  had 
proudly  given  the  particulars  to  the 
public.  The  great  man  was  slightly  run 
down  from  the  enormous  duties  which  had  pressed  upon 
him  since  the  very  beginning  of  his  giant  enterprise, 
and  was  to  take  a  long  and  much-needed  rest  in  the 
town  of  his  birth  and  in  the  quiet  old  house  where  he 
had  spent  his  boyhood.  The  mayor  and  aldermen  and 
a  brass-band  had  met  him  as  he  stepped  from  his  pri 
vate  car  at  the  station,  and  he  was  welcomed  with  spir 
ited  music  and  a  short  but  ponderous  speech  on  the 
part  of  the  mayor.  Then  John  Dilk,  in  a  new  suit  of 
clothes  and  a  much- worn  silk  top-hat,  haughtily  drove 
his  master  and  the  doting  General  through  the  streets, 
across  the  square,  and  on  to  the  old  Gait  mansion. 

The  crowd  which  had  followed  the  carriage  from  the 
station  to  the  square  gradually  dispersed,  and  the  two 
friends  were  alone  when  they  alighted  at  the  gate. 

"  Do  you  see  those  chairs  and  that  table  under  the 
oaks  on  our  lawn?"  Sylvester  asked,  with  the  bubbling 
pride  of  a  boy  in  a  victorious  ball  game,  as  they  were 
strolling  up  the  wide  moss-grown  brick  walk. 
Gait  nodded,  and  smiled  tentatively. 
"Madge  is  going  to  give  us  a  cup  of  tea  outdoors," 
Sylvester    explained.     "  It   was   her   own    idea.     It    is 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

warm  inside,  and  that  is  the  shadiest,  coolest  spot  in 
Stafford.  The  tea  will  refresh  us.  Shall  we  go  now,  or 
do  you  want  to  nose  over  the  old  house  first?" 

"I  see  Mrs.  Wilson  looking  out  from  a  window,"  Gait 
answered.  "  I  think  I'd  better  go  in  for  a  moment,  any 
way.  The  good  old  soul  is  in  her  best  bib  and  tucker, 
and  might  feel  hurt." 

"Right  you  are!"  the  General  said,  approvingly. 
"  You  haven't  risen  too  high,  my  boy,  to  think  of  those 
dependent  on  you.  Run  in  and  take  possession,  and 
I'll  stir  Madge  up.  A  cup  of  tea  of  my  particular  blend 
will  do  you  good  after  your  dusty  ride." 

His  niece  was  coming  across  the  grass  as  the  old  gen 
tleman  reached  the  tea-table.  Her  arms  were  full  of 
fresh-cut  roses,  which  she  proceeded  to  arrange  in  an  old- 
fashioned  silver  punch-bowl  in  the  centre  of  the  table. 

"I  suppose  you  heard  the  band  and  cheering?"  the 
old  man  said,  as  he  stood  watching  her  and  rubbing  his 
thin  hands  together  in  suppressed  delight. 

"Oh  yes,"  Margaret  laughed;  "and  from  my  window 
I  saw  you  and  your  conquering  hero  drive  up  in  state. 
Well,  did  he  accept  our  invitation  or  shirk  it,  as  they 
say  he  usually  does  with  everything  of  the  sort  ?" 

"On  the  contrary,  he  seemed  glad  to  be  asked,"  re 
turned  the  General.  "  In  fact,  it  looks  to  me  like  he's 
happy  to  be  home  again,  though  one  can  never  tell. 
The  active  life  of  great  success  in  any  line  estranges  men 
from  the  simpler  things.  Just  think  of  it!  The  fellow 
has  lived  in  hotels,  clubs,  and  that  private  car  of  his  for 
the  last  six  years.  He  has  not,  if  I  remember  correctly, 
been  once  inside  his  old  home  since  the  night  I  sent  him 
whizzing  like  a  shot  to  New  York.  I  do  hope  it  won't 
become  irksome  to  him.  He  needs  rest  and  quiet  badly, 
as  you  will  see  when  he  comes  over.  His  face  has  a  few 
new  lines,  and  his  eyes  have  a  shifting,  restless  look 
which  they  didn't  use  to  show.  Where  are  you  going  to 

159 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

have  him  sit?"  The  old  man  was  looking  over  the 
cluster  of  chairs  and  cushioned  stools. 

"  Oh,  his  lordship  may  take  his  high  and  mighty 
choice!"  Margaret  laughed,  teasingly.  "Perhaps  he'll 
unbend  and  sit  on  the  grass  like  a  school-boy.  He  is, 
after  all,  only  flesh  and  blood,  dear  uncle,  odd  as  the 
fact  may  seem  to  you." 

"Well,  don't  hurl  that  sort  of  thing  at  him,"  Sylvester 
retorted,  rather  testily.  "After  all,  a  man  not  much 
over  forty,  who  succeeds  in  an  enterprise  which  belongs 
to  the  history  of  the  land,  and  at  the  same  time  puts 
money  into  your  pocket  and  mine  in  big  lumps  and  rolls, 
does  deserve  consideration.  Why,  he  has  made  you 
rich,  Madge!  He  could  have  located  his  terminal  shops 
and  round-house  at  the  other  end  of  town  just  as  well, 
but  he  put  them  on  our  land  and  asked  no  questions 
about  the  price.  By  George,  why  shouldn't  we  pet  him 
a  little  when  he  has  been  away  all  these  years,  and  has 
come  back  broken  down  this  way?" 

"  Oh,  well,  I  don't  think  he  needs  it,  that's  all,"  the 
young  lady  said,  pacifically.  "  A  man  like  that  is  neither 
sugar  nor  salt.  Only  weak  men  want  to  be  pampered 
and  cajoled.  Your  railway  magnate  will  take  care  of 
himself."  Her  eyes  were  resting  on  the  figure  of  a 
child  in  a  big  swing  which  Doctor  Bearing  had  hung 
from  the  lower  branch  of  a  tall  oak  a  few  yards  away. 
It  was  Dora  Barry's  son.  He  was  standing  on  the 
board  seat  clasping  the  stout  hemp  ropes  with  his  little 
hands  and  "pumping"  himself  into  motion  by  alternate 
ly  bending  and  straightening  his  lithe  body.  His  beau 
tiful  golden  hair  swung  loose  in  the  breeze,  there  was 
a  glow  of  health  in  his  pink  cheeks,  and  he  was  neat 
ly  dressed  in  white  duck,  a  flowing  necktie,  and  tan 
slippers  and  short  stockings  which  exposed  his  perfect 
calves  and  trim  ankles. 

"Oh,"  Margaret  suddenly  exclaimed,  "I'm  afraid  he 

1 60 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

will  fall!  Wynn  is  always  doing  such  absurd  things; 
the  child  is  not  old  enough  to  take  such  risks  as  that 
with  no  one  to  watch  him." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  the  General  said,  and  he  went  to 
the  swing  and  persuaded  Lionel  to  sit  down.  Then  he 
pushed  him  forward,  and  left  him  swinging  gently. 

"Just  think  of  it!"  Sylvester  said,  as  he  came  back 
to  his  niece,  who  sat  now  with  her  glance  on  the  grass. 
"  Time  certainly  flies.  That  specimen  of  humanity  has 
come  into  existence  and  grown  to  that  size  since  Kenneth 
was  here.  I  don't  think  he  ever  knew  the  poor  girl  very 
well  before  her  misfortune,  but  he  is  sorry  for  her.  I  re 
member  speaking  to  him  of  her  in  New  York  one  day, 
and  I  could  see  that  he  was  quite  interested." 

"  I  think  I  see  him  coming  now,"  Margaret  said,  biting 
her  lip.  It  was  the  way  she  had  always  avoided  any 
conversation  which  touched  upon  the  one  sore  spot  of 
her  life,  and  her  uncle  refrained,  as  he  had  always  done, 
from  carrying  the  topic  further. 

"  Yes,  he  is  coming,"  and  Sylvester  stood  up  and 
waved  his  handkerchief.  "  Come  and  take  the  place 
of  honor,"  he  said,  picking  up  a  downy  pillow  and  laying 
it  in  the  big  chair  next  to  Margaret's.  "  I  am  glad  there 
never  was  a  fence  between  your  place  and  ours,  for  we 
can  mix  and  mingle  as  we  did  when  your  father  and 
I  were  young  bloods.  I've  made  a  mistake  many  a 
night  in  having  my  horse  put  up  in  his  stable  after  the 
dumb  brute  had  brought  me  home  from  a  dance  in  the 
country  with  more  intelligence  than  I  possessed." 

Gait  laughed  appreciatively  as  he  bent  over  the  fair 
hand  of  his  hostess  and  received  her  simple  and  yet  cor 
dial  greeting.  He  had  admired  her  as  a  girl,  and  now 
in  her  ripened  beauty,  added  grace,  and  dignified  bear 
ing  he  found  nothing  lacking.  As  he  watched  her 
deftly  lighting  the  spirit-lamp  under  the  swinging  tea 
kettle  he  recalled,  with  a  certain  sense  of  delectation,  a 

161 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

hint  her  uncle  had  given  him  in  a  jesting  tone  and  yet 
with  a  serious  look. 

"  I  may  have  you  in  my  family  one  day,  young  man," 
the  General  had  said,  in  some  talk  over  their  common 
business  interests,  "  and  in  that  case  I'll  rule  you  with  a 
rod  of  iron." 

After  all,  it  would  be  nice,  Gait  reflected  to-day,  and 
a  step  of  that  sort  might  ultimately  quiet  the  dull  ach 
ing  of  heart  which  had  been  his  for  so  many  years.  Few 
men  had  ever  had  to  such  a  marked  degree  the  pro 
nounced  yearning  toward  paternity  as  had  come  to  the 
lonely  bachelor  since  the  chief  mistake  of  his  life.  His 
love  for  children  was  more  like  that  of  a  woman  who 
has  tasted  and  lost  the  joys  of  motherhood  than  that 
of  a  man  of  the  world.  He  never  saw  a  pretty  child 
without  looking  at  its  father  with  a  sort  of  envious  cu 
riosity.  Was  the  remainder  of  his  life  to  be  passed 
without  his  possessing  that  for  which  he  yearned  more 
than  for  any  other  earthly  thing?  He  had  heard,  of 
course,  of  the  birth  of  Dora's  child,  but  he  had  so  per 
sistently  fought  off  the  thought  of  it  and  its  attendant 
remorse  that,  like  many  another  man  so  situated,  his 
sense  of  responsibility  in  the  matter  had  become  some 
what  dulled. 

He  now  ventured,  during  the  General's  jovial  chatter, 
to  glance  across  the  lawn  toward  the  cottage  below.  It 
was  there  in  the  starlight  that  he  had  seen  the  brave 
young  girl  for  the  last  time.  It  was  there.  And  he  shud 
dered  under  the  scourging  lash  of  the  words  with  which 
she  had  prophesied  that  he  would  fail  to  stand  by  her — 
fail  to  rescue  her  from  the  abyss  into  which  he  had 
plunged  her.  He  shuddered  again.  Hero  as  he  was  in 
the  sight  of  many,  in  Dora's  eyes,  at  least,  he  could  never 
be  aught  but  despicable.  She  had  gauged  his  weakness 
better  than  he  could  have  done  it  himself.  He  had 
made  a  choice  between  honor  and  ambition,  and  he  had 

162 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

abided  by  it.  Other  men  had  cast  such  memories  to 
the  winds  of  oblivion.  Why  had  his  clung  to  him  with 
such  damning  tenacity?  There  was  never  any  satisfac 
tory  answer  to  the  question,  and  now  and  then  a  thought 
as  from  infinite  space  was  hurled  upon  him  with  the  force 
of  a  catapult — it  was  the  conviction  that,  girl  though  she 
had  been,  Dora  Barry's  equal,  in  the  intellectual  and 
womanly  things  he  admired,  was  not  to  be  found  among 
all  the  women  he  had  known.  What  was  she  like 
now  ?  What  havoc  had  the  tragedy  and  succeeding  time 
wrought  in  the  fair  being  whom  he  had  left  stranded  and 
storm-swept  on  that  eventful  night?  Under  the  low 
roof  and  in  the  tiny  yard  of  the  cottage  just  across  the 
way  she  and  his  child,  according  to  Wynn  Dearing's 
report,  had  been  imprisoned  all  those  years.  What  a 
rebuke  to  his  boundless  egotism!  He  might  remain 
there  for  years,  and  neither  of  the  two  would  intrude 
themselves  upon  him.  Oh  yes,  he  told  himself,  he  was 
safe  enough  on  that  score.  She  had  kept  her  vow  of 
secrecy  so  far,  and  would  do  so  to  the  end. 

At  this  juncture  there  was  a  rippling  scream  of  child 
ish  delight  behind  him,  and,  turning,  he  saw  Lionel,  his 
face  flushed,  his  great  eyes  full  of  excitement,  as  he 
eagerly  chased  a  black  kitten  round  and  round  a  bed  of 
rose-bushes. 

"What  a  beautiful  boy!"  Gait  exclaimed,  beside  him 
self  in  admiration.  "What  a  perfect  figure!  Whose 
child  is  it?" 

The  question  was  addressed  to  Margaret;  but  she  hes 
itated,  tightened  her  lips,  and  looked  down. 

"  Oh,  it  is  one  of  our  neighbor's,"  the  General  skilfully 
interjected,  as  he  leaned  forward  and  tried  ineffectually 
to  give  his  guest  a  warning  glance.  "  Wynn  is  a  great 
hand  at  amusing  the  little  ones.  He  thought  this  child 
needed  more  exercise  and  fresh  air,  and  he  asked  his 
mother  to  let  it  play  here." 

163 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Gait  was  now  watching  the  boy,  and  so  intently  that 
he  only  half  heard  what  the  General  said  and  quite  failed 
to  notice  that  his  question  had  embarrassed  his  hostess. 
"Catch  it!  Run  round  the  other  way,  little  man!"  he 
cried  out,  leaning  forward  with  his  cup  in  his  hand. 
"There!  there  it  goes!"  The  child  paused  just  an  in 
stant,  and  raised  his  appealing,  long-lashed  eyes  to  the 
speaker;  as  he  did  so  the  kitten  bounded  like  a  rabbit 
across  the  grass  and  up  a  tree  a  few  yards  away. 

"Now,  see  what  you  did!"  Lionel  cried,  disappointed 
ly,  as  he  stood  panting,  his  silken  tresses  tossed  about 
his  face.  "You  let  him  get  away.  I'd  have  had  him 
if  you  hadn't  spoken.  But  I  don't  care,  I  can  get  him!" 
And  he  was  off  like  the  wind  toward  the  tree,  on  a  lower 
bough  of  which  the  kitten  was  perched,  blandly  eying 
his  pursuer. 

"You  are  as  fond  of  children  as  ever,"  the  General 
remarked,  "and  it  proves  that  your  heart  is  in  the 
right  spot.  Show  me  a  man  who  has  no  use  for  little 
tots,  and  I'll  show  you  a  man  who  will  cheat  you  in  a 
transaction." 

"  It  certainly  is  a  good  quality,"  Margaret  said,  as  she 
proffered  sugar  for  his  tea.  "  We  naturally  expect  it  of 
women,  but  it  always  seems  exceptional  in  men,  espe 
cially  men  who  have  their  time  fully  occupied." 

Sylvester  laughed  reminiscently. 

"  I've  seen  Kenneth  stop  on  the  street  to  chat  with  a 
dirty  -  faced  newsboy  when  the  general  superintendent 
of  his  road  was  waving  an  important  telegram  at  him; 
and  I've  seen  the  boy  walk  off  with  a  quarter  for  a  penny 
paper,  too." 

"  I  seem  to  be  getting  my  share  of  compliments,  at  any 
rate,"  Gait  laughed.  "I'd  call  it  flattery  if  I  could  ac 
cuse  your  hospitality  of  anything  not  wholly  genuine." 

"Uncle  Tom  certainly  means  what  he  says,"  Mar 
garet  affirmed.  Her  glance  drifted  in  the  direction  the 

164 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

sporting  child  had  taken,  and  she  uttered  a  sharp, 
startled  scream. 

"Oh,  he'll  fall!"  she  cried. 

Following  her  eyes,  the  others  saw  that  Lionel,  still 
chasing  the  kitten,  had  climbed  the  tree  to  its  lower 
boughs  ten  or  twelve  feet  from  the  ground,  and,  with 
the  prize  still  above  him,  sat  in  a  decidedly  perilous  po 
sition  on  a  bending  branch  so  intent  on  reaching  the 
animal  that  he  was  oblivious  of  his  danger. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  I'll  get  him  down,"  Gait  assured 
her,  with  an  easy  laugh,  and  he  sprang  up  and  ran 
across  the  grass,  saying,  under  his  breath:  "Plucky  little 
scamp!  He'll  break  his  neck!" 

"Come  down  from  there!"  he  called  out,  a  queer  re 
currence  of  his  own  childhood  on  him  as  he  viewed  the 
muscular  boy  and  the  plump,  bare  calves  above  his 
short  stockings.  He  was  breathing  freely  now,  for  he 
felt  that  in  case  of  a  fall  he  could  catch  the  youngster 
in  his  arms. 

"Oh,  do  let  me  get  him!"  Lionel  cried,  looking  down 
appealingly,  and  speaking  with  the  accent  which  had 
always  impressed  hearers  as  so  quaint  and  odd  in  a 
child. 

"No,  you  mustn't  go  a  bit  higher!"  Gait  said,  assum 
ing  a  youthful  tone  of  comradery  that  his  words  might 
not  have  any  semblance  of  command.  "  You  are  a 
dandy  climber — almost  as  good  as  the  cat,  but  he  is 
lighter  than  you  are.  You'll  break  that  limb  in  a  min 
ute,  and  down  you  will  tumble!" 

The  boy  looked  at  the  bending  bough  and  shrugged 
his  square  shoulders.  "  I  don't  know  but  what  you  are 
right,"  he  said,  with  a  wry  face.  "I  declare,  I  wasn't 
looking  where  I  was  going.  I'm  almost  afraid  to  move 
now."  Then  he  burst  into  a  merry  laugh  as  he  glanced 
first  at  his  would-be  rescuer  and  then  up  at  the  cat. 

"  Why,  what  is  so  amusing  about  it  ?"  Gait  questioned, 

165 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

fairly  transported  by  the  boy's  beauty,  fearlessness,  and 
vivacity. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  but  it  seems  funny — you  down 
there,  me  up  here,  and  the  cat  above  us  both." 

Gait  laughed  till  tears  came  into  his  eyes. 

"You  are  certainly  a  marvel,"  he  said.  "But  you 
must  come  down.  Slide  carefully  toward  the  trunk  of 
the  tree  and  catch  hold  of  it  firmly.  You'll  tear  your 
clothes,  but  it  is  better  that  than — ' 

"  I  know  an  easier  way!"  the  child  cried.  "  I'll  jump, 
and  you  catch  me." 

"But  I  can't!"  Gait  answered.  "You'd  crush  me  to 
the  ground,  small  as  you  are!" 

"No,  I  wouldn't!"  Lionel  laughed,  with  thorough  con 
fidence.  "  Doctor  Wynn  caught  me  the  other  day  when 
I  jumped  from  the  roof  of  the  wagon-shed,  and  you  are 
stronger  than  he  is.  You  are  taller,  anyway.  Look,  I 
am  coming!" 

Fascinated  by  the  child's  voice  and  manner,  and  un 
able  to  protest  quickly  enough,  Gait  braced  himself, 
fearing  that  the  swaying  child  would  fall.  "One,  two, 
three!"  Lionel  counted,  and  the  little  white-clothed  fig 
ure  left  the  bough,  shot  through  the  sunlight,  and  alight 
ed  in  Gait's  outstretched  arms.  There  was  a  scream 
from  Margaret,  the  General  stood  up,  a  startled  look  on 
his  gashed  and  seamed  face.  The  child's  arms  went 
round  Gait's  neck;  his  soft,  warm  cheek  was  pressed 
against  his,  and,  scarcely  knowing  why  he  did  it,  Gait 
embraced  him  in  a  veritable  qualm  of  relief.  He  put 
the  boy  down,  but  took  his  hands  in  his  and  held  them. 
He  admired  and  loved  children,  but  he  had  never  been 
so  drawn  to  one  before. 

"He's  all  right!"  he  called  out,  reassuringly,  to  the 
others.  "  He  didn't  get  a  scratch,  but  it's  a  wonder  he 
wasn't  lamed  for  life.  He  jumped  before  I  could  stop 
him." 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Looking  into  the  child's  sensitive  face,  Gait  noted, 
with  surprise  and  concern,  that  it  was  clouded  over. 
"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked,  anxiously.  "Did  you 
hurt  yourself?  Did  it  jar  you  too  much ?" 

"  No,  but  I'm  afraid  you  are  angry  with  me,"  the  boy 
answered.  "Are  you?" 

"Well,  not  exactly,  but,  you  see,  my  boy — "  Gait 
checked  himself,  for  the  corners  of  the  little  fellow's 
mouth  were  drawn  down  and  his  eyes  were  filling. 

"  You  are  angry,  and  you  don't  like  me  a  bit."  A  sob 
rose  in  the  breast  of  the  child  and  struggled  outward. 
He  drew  his  little  hands  from  Gait's  detaining  clasp  and 
looked  down.  "I  am  very  sorry;  I'll  never,  never  do 
it  again.  I  was  bad.  You  told  me  not  to  jump,  but  I 
did.  I  am  always  disobeying  somebody.  When  Doc 
tor  Wynn  told  me  a  great,  smart,  rich  man  was  coming 
who  had  built  a  railroad,  miles  and  miles  through  the 
woods  and  under  mountains  and  over  rivers,  I  told  him 
I'd  be  good  and  make  you  think  I  was  a  nice  boy,  so  that 
you'd  like  me;  but  now,  you  see,  I  went  and  made  you 
angry  at  the  very  start." 

"Well,  what  if  I  tell  you  this,  you  dear  little  chap," 
and  Gait  paused  and  took  him  into  his  arms  again; 
"  what  if  I  tell  you  that  it  was  because  I  liked  you  very, 
very  much  that  I  tried  to  stop  you?  You  see,  I  was 
afraid  you'd  get  hurt,  and  I  liked  you  so  much  that  I 
wanted  to  prevent  it.  Will  that  satisfy  you?" 

"Oh!"  Gait  felt  the  little,  warm  arm  steal  round  his 
neck  confidently.  "  Then  you  really  do  like  me,  after  all." 

Gait  laughed;  he  could  hardly  understand  the  emo 
tion  that  welled  up  in  him — he  laughed  that  he  might 
hide  it  even  from  himself.  "  I'll  tell  you  this  much," 
he  said :  "  I  like  nearly  all  little  boys,  but  on  my  honor 
I  never  liked  a  boy,  on  a  short  acquaintance,  in  my  life, 
so  much  as  I  do  you.  There,  now,  come  on  and  get  a 
cup  of  tea!" 

ia  167 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

With  Lionel  in  his  arms,  he  went  back  to  the  table 
and  sat  down,  keeping  him  in  his  lap.  There  was  a 
sensitive  shadow  on  Margaret's  features  and  a  certain 
awkward  look  of  sympathy  for  her  on  her  uncle's  strong 
face,  but  Gait  failed  to  remark  them. 

"Does  your  mamma  let  you  drink  tea?"  Margaret 
asked,  gently. 

"No,  I  thank  you,"  the  child  answered.  "She  says 
it's  too  strong  a  stim — stim — " 

"Stimulant."  Gait  supplied  the  word  with  a  hearty 
laugh  of  amusement.  "  I  declare,  for  a  child,  you  have 
the  largest  vocabulary — if  you  know  what  that  is — 
that  I  ever  ran  across.  By-the-way" — and  he  drew 
the  boy's  head  down  against  his  breast  and  ran  his 
hand  through  the  soft,  scented  tresses — "  you  haven't 
told  me  your  name  yet.  What  is  it?" 

"Lionel,"  replied  the  boy. 

"Well,  that  is  pretty  enough  so  far  as  it  goes,  but 
what  else?" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'what  else'?"  The  child 
had  hold  of  Gait's  disengaged  hand,  and  was  toying 
with  it  as  if  admiring  its  strength  and  size,  and  he 
paused  to  look  up  into  the  dark  face  bending  over  him. 

"Why,  I  mean,  what  is  your  full  name?"  Gait  said, 
smiling  into  the  rather  grave  faces  about  him. 

"Lionel — just  Lionel,  that's  all,"  the  child  said,  and 
he  raised  Gait's  hand  in  both  of  his  own  and  pressed  it. 
"  Most  people  have  two  names,  but  I've  never  had  but 
one.  I  don't  know  why.  Do  you  ?  I  asked  my  mother 
about  it  one  day  when  Mrs.  Chumley  was  talking  mean 
to  her  about  me,  and  mamma  went  off  to  her  room  and 
cried.  Grandmother  told  me  never  to  speak  of  it  to  her 
again.  My  mother  has  two  names — Dora  Barry." 

Kenneth  Gait  felt  as  though  his  soul  had  suddenly 
died  within  him.  The  bonny  head  of  his  own  child  lay 
on  his  breast,  its  throbbing  warmth  striking  through  to 

1 68 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

his  pulseless  heart.  Margaret  sat  rigid  and  speechless, 
and  General  Sylvester,  in  his  desire  to  shield  her,  began 
chattering  irrelevantly. 

The  long  shadows  of  the  descending  sun  crawled  across 
the  grass  toward  the  hill  in  the  east.  The  golden  head 
remained  where  it  lay,  the  tiny  and  yet  vigorous 
fingers  twined  themselves  about  the  larger  inanimate 
ones.  The  eyelids  over  the  boy's  big,  dreamy  orbs 
wavered  and  drooped.  He  was  tired  and  sleepy.  He 
heaved  a  long,  fragrant  sigh  and  nestled  more  snugly 
into  the  arms  that  held  him.  A  great,  voiceless  yearn 
ing  born  of  the  long-buried  paternal  instinct  fired  the 
dry  tinder — the  driftwood  of  years  of  misguided  lone 
liness — in  the  man's  being.  A  great  light  seemed  to 
burst  and  blaze  above  him.  He  sat  with  his  gaze  on 
the  old  man's  face,  but  in  fancy  he  felt  himself  kissing 
the  parted  lips  of  that  marvel  of  creation — Dora's  child 
and  his. 


CHAPTER   IV 


IX  years  had  wrought  a  wonderful 
change  in  Gate  City.  It  had  increased 
in  size  and  importance.  Stephen  Whip- 
pie  was  still  the  only  wholesale  grocer 
of  the  place,  and  Fred  Walton  had  be 
come  his  chief  assistant.  He  was  known 
to  be  the  old  man's  special  favorite,  and  was  living  on 
the  footing  of  a  son  in  the  Whipple  household. 

On  the  day  that  Kenneth  Gait  had  returned  to  Staf 
ford,  Fred  and  his  employer  were  seated  in  the  old 
man's  private  office.  Whipple  had  opened  his  heart  to 
him  in  regard  to  a  certain  financial  development  which 
had  gone  against  his  interests.  The  old  grocer's  pride 
had  been  wounded  as  it  had  never  been  wounded  before. 
Since  the  starting  of  the  business  he  had  been  specially 
proud  of  the  fact  that  he  had  been  able  to  supply  the 
retail  dealers  of  Gate  City  with  the  groceries  consumed 
by  their  customers  as  cheaply  as  any  of  the  far-off  mar 
kets  could  do,  even  with  the  freight  cost  added. 

But  in  competing  with  his  rivals  for  the  patronage  of 
the  town,  an  ambitious  retail  dealer — a  certain  J.  B. 
Thorp — to  cut  at  Whipple,  who  had  refused  him  further 
credit,  owing  to  Thorp's  unwillingness  to  meet  his  bills 
when  due,  began  to  advertise  that  the  reason  he  could 
undersell  his  rivals  was  that  he  didn't  stop  at  home  to 
buy  his  supplies.  This  had  evoked  a  sharp  retort  in 
"  a  card"  in  the  town  papers  from  the  offended  Whipple, 
and  it  had  brought  out  further  and  more  sarcastic  al- 

170 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

lusions  from  Thorp.  He  said  that  it  was  as  plain  as  the 
nose  on  anybody's  face  that  a  man  could  not  have 
waxed  so  rich  as  the  money  king  of  Gate  City  had  done 
except  at  the  expense  of  the  public,  and  he  scored  a 
commercial  triumph  by  giving  therewith  a  list  of  his 
retail  prices  for  that  day,  which,  on  staple  wares  at 
least,  were  really  as  low  as  Whipple's  salesmen  could  give 
their  customers  at  wholesale. 

The  publicity  of  the  whole  thing  had  a  bad  effect  on 
the  old  man's  clientele.  The  shrewd  retailer  chuckled 
with  gratified  revenge  as  he  saw  the  public  fairly  stream 
ing  his  way.  The  stores  which  were  being  supplied  by 
Whipple  were  absolutely  inactive.  The  clerks  stood  on 
the  sidewalk  ruefully  regarding  the  human  current,  and, 
by  way  of  amusement,  laying  wagers  on  the  outgoings 
of  Thorp's  loaded  delivery  wagons,  each  of  which  now 
bore  an  American  flag,  with  a  motto  in  big  black  letters: 
"Live  and  Let  Live!  Down  with  the  Money  God  of 
Gate  City!" 

Whipple's  salesmen  made  their  usual  rounds  among 
his  patrons,  only  to  meet  with  utter  stagnation  on 
every  hand,  and  returned  with  long  faces  to  report  few 
if  any  sales.  Consumers,  quick  to  secure  even  an  ephem 
eral  advantage,  were  easily  convinced  that  Thorp  was 
working  for  their  interests,  and  they  stood  by  him. 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  we  can  make  shift  some  way,  my  boy," 
the  old  man  sighed ;  "  for  our  business  out  of  town  is  widen 
ing  and  growing ;  but  in  all  my  life  I  never  was  hit  under 
the  belt  as  bad  as  this,  for  I  did  want  to  hold  my  own 
here  at  home.  And  to  think  that  I  am  done,  and  done 
good,  by  that  measly  Thorp,  simply  because  we  pinned 
down  on  him  and  forced  him  to  pay  up.  It  hurts  like 
salt  rubbed  in  a  sore  to  be  treated  this  way,  after  all 
I've  done  for  the  town.  The  boys  say  our  best  custom 
ers  are  paying  more  money  than  we  ask  right  now  in  the 
Eastern  markets  in  the  effort  to  counteract  Thorp's 

171 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

trickery.  Do  you  know,  I'd  draw  my  check  this  minute 
for  ten  thousand  round  dollars  and  pay  it  to  anybody 
who  will  show  me  a  way  to  crush  that  sneaking  scamp. 
Put  the  boys  on  their  mettle,  Fred;  tell  'em  I  said  fresh 
ideas  are  better  than  stale  ones,  and  the  man  that  helps 
me  out  of  this  tight  hole  will  be  well  paid  for  his  trouble." 

"I  was  hoping  that  it  would  die  out  in  a  few  days," 
said  Walton,  "  but  it  has  only  grown  worse.  Thorp  has 
got  the  upper  hand,  and  the  more  we  fight  him  the 
bigger  advertisement  he  gets  out  of  it.  Johnston  and 
Wells  say  they  can't  possibly  make  the  payment  they 
promised  this  month,  owing  to  the  big  slump  in  their 
sales." 

"Well,  I  didn't  expect  it!"  Whipple  groaned,  his  head 
resting  on  his  fat  hand.  "  And  the  trouble  is,  the  thing 
may  drive  many  of  our  customers  clean  to  the  wall. 
Thorp  would  sell  groceries  for  no  profit  at  all  for  twelve 
months  to  swamp  the  others.  The  public  are  getting 
low  prices,  the  Lord  knows,  but  it  means  the  ruin  of 
regular  trade  and  the  desperation  of  good,  energetic 
business  men.  Look  here,  Fred,  we  must  down  that 
rascal,  I  tell  you.  Start  the  boys  to  thinking.  Surely 
among  us  we  can  turn  up  some  plan  or  other." 

"  I'll  do  what  I  can,  Mr.  Whipple,"  Walton  promised, 
as  he  stood  up  and  opened  the  door  for  the  old  man, 
who  had  desperately  snatched  his  hat  from  its  hook  on 
the  wall  and  was  ponderously  striding  out. 

When  he  had  left  the  store,  Fred  called  Dick  Warren 
to  him  from  his  high  stool  in  the  counting-room.  With 
his  increased  years  and  regular  life  Dick  had  vastly 
improved  in  appearance.  He  hadn't  risen  so  rapidly 
as  his  friend,  but  he  was  a  capable  bookkeeper,  a  fine 
salesman,  and  a  steady,  accurate  worker,  who  earned  a 
good  salary. 

"This  thing  has  hit  the  old  man  hard,  Dick,"  Walton 
said. 

172 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Anybody  can  see  it  by  the  way  he  walks  with  his 
head  down  like  that,"  Dick  returned.  "The  house  can 
stand  it,  of  course,  with  all  its  out-of-town  support,  but 
Gate  City  trade  was  the  old  man's  pet,  and  I'll  be  blamed 
if  it  doesn't  look  like  he'll  never  get  any  more  of  it.  It 
actually  gives  a  store  a  black  eye  to  have  any  of  our 
brands  on  sale.  Jim  Wilson  said  just  now  that  he'd 
take  a  keg  of  our  soda  if  we'd  scrape  our  name  off  of  it. 
I  gave  him  a  piece  of  my  mind,  but  he  said  we  were 
looking  to  our  interests  and  he  was  looking  to  his.  I  had 
no  idea  the  people  of  this  town  could  be  such  blasted 
fools!"  and,  considerably  disgruntled,  Dick  went  back 
to  his  post. 

Several  days  passed.  The  situation  was  no  better. 
Thorp  had  induced  one  of  the  railroads  to  build  a  side 
track  from  the  main  line  to  a  platform  in  the  rear  of  his 
store,  and  Eastern  goods  were  being  unloaded  in  wholesale 
quantities  right  on  the  premises.  He  was  also  adver 
tising  for  a  vacant  house  in  which  to  accommodate  the 
overflow  of  his  business.  The  only  available  one  on 
the  street  belonged  to  Whipple,  and  that,  of  course,  he 
couldn't  rent  at  any  price. 

Among  those  most  concerned,  though  rather  indirect 
ly,  was  the  Rev.  Luke  Matthews.  He  was  seeing  his 
rich  patron  in  a  new  light,  for,  now  that  he  was  in  trouble, 
old  Whipple  had  less  time  to  devote  to  the  uplifting  of 
humanity,  either  spiritually  or  materially,  and  he  often 
denied  himself  to  the  minister's  frequent  calls. 

"Just  wait  till  I  get  my  head  above  water,"  Whipple 
said  once,  when  Matthews  clutched  his  arm  and  essayed 
to  speak  of  a  matter  concerning  the  church.  "  I  reckon 
I'm  worldly  minded,  Brother  Matthews,  but  a  man  has 
to  be  tainted  that  way  to  fight  worldly  matters.  Right 
now  I  am  as  full  of  Old  Nick  as  I  ever  was  in  my  worst 
days.  I  know  it;  I  feel  it;  but,  by  gum!  I  am  not 
ashamed.  Day  and  night  prayers  wouldn't  move  a 

173 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

rascally  skunk  like  Thorp.  He  was  my  friend  as  long 
as  he  could  suck  my  blood,  and  now  he  is  my  worst 
enemy  because  I  wouldn't  let  him." 

As  the  weeks  passed,  matters  only  grew  worse  for  the 
wholesale  store.  Its  town  customers  dropped  off  till 
local  business  amounted  to  nothing  at  all.  One  morn 
ing  the  merchant  walked  the  full  length  of  the  main 
street.  He  went  up  one  side  to  the  court-house  at  the 
far  end,  and  then  slowly  returned  on  the  other  side. 
On  the  way  he  met  Matthews,  who  told  him  something 
he  had  not  heard,  and  he  walked  on,  now  more  slowly 
than  ever.  As  he  was  passing  through  the  counting- 
room  on  his  way  to  his  private  office  he  paused  between 
the  stools  on  which  Fred  and  Dick  were  seated.  His 
face  was  ashen  in  color,  his  lower  lip  was  quivering  like 
that  of  a  weeping  child. 

"What  do  you  think  is  in  the  wind  now,  boys?" 
he  gulped,  as  he  placed  an  unsteady  hand  on  Fred's 
shoulder. 

"I  have  no  idea,"  Fred  answered. 

"All  the  balance  have  combined,"  Whipple  groaned. 

"Who? — what? — how  combined?"  Fred  asked,  won 
dering  if  his  old  friend  was  not  actually  losing  his  reason. 

"Why,  all  the  other  retailers  have  formed  a  pool  to 
beat  Thorp,  and  in  doing  it  they  have  knifed  me.  They 
have  formed  a  combine  to  buy  their  stuff  in  St.  Louis 
and  New  York  in  order  to  get  car-load  rates.  They  had 
a  caucus  last  night  in  the  rear  end  of  Thompson  & 
White's  shebang,  and  the  last  one  signed  up.  They 
don't  buy  a  thing  from  us — the  man  who  spends  a  nickel 
at  this  house  loses  his  membership.  They  are  a  lot  of 
sneaking  curs,  to  pull  me  down  and  stamp  on  me  just 
because  that  scamp's  upset  business,  but  they  done  it. 
The  thing  will  spread  all  over  the  State,  and  I'll  be 
laughed  at  as  a  doddering  old  idiot.  Folks  like  nothing 
better  than  to  see  a  successful  man  get  it  in  the  neck. 

J74 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

As  I  passed  along  the  street  just  now  they  slunk  away 
from  their  doors,  so  I  couldn't  see  'em  laugh.  They  call 
themselves  '  wholesale  men '  now,  and  say  they  are  going 
to  oust  me  and  Thorp  both — make  us  count  cross-ties 
out  of  town.  I've  had  insults  in  my  time,  but  being 
yoked  with  that  skunk  is  a  dose  I  can't  swallow.  I'm 
beat,  and  beat  bad.  If  there  was  a  loophole  to  crawl 
out  at — if  I  could  take  one  single  step  to  defend  myself — 
I'd  give  away  half  I've  accumulated  to  be  able  to  do  it. 
My  money  paid  for  two-thirds  of  the  Belgian-block 
pavement  around  the  park;  I  gave  more  than  half  that 
was  subscribed  to  the  girls'  school-building,  and  paid, 
entire,  for  the  wall  round  the  graveyard,  to  say  nothing 
of  what  I  put  in  the  fire  company,  and  new  engines  at 
the  gas-works.  I  done  those  things,  boys,  for  the  town 
they  live  in,  and  yet  they  can  drag  my  name  in  the  mire 
and  throw  mud  and  slime  on  me." 

He  turned  suddenly  and  left  them,  striding  on  to  his 
desk  in  the  adjoining  room. 

"Poor  old  fellow!"  Dick  said.  "Nothing  on  earth 
could  have  cut  his  pride  more." 

"  If  he  could  only  hit  back  in  some  substantial  way," 
Walton  reflected,  aloud.  "Think  of  some  plan,  Dick." 

"Think  of  nothing!"  the  younger  man  said,  gloomily. 
"  Of  all  things  on  earth,  I  never  could  have  dreamt  of 
those  fellows  combining  that  way." 

A  moment  later  a  postman  came  in  with  a  bundle  of 
letters  and  handed  them  to  Fred. 

"  Looks  like  they  are  getting  you  fellows  in  the  nine 
hole  at  last,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh.  "Every  grocer  on 
the  street  is  putting  out  a  big  sign.  One  of  them  has 
got  a  picture  of  the  old  man  with  a  handkerchief  to  his 
eyes  standing  in  a  store  without  a  single  customer,  while 
all  the  crowd  is  headed  for  another  place." 

"Oh,  we'll  have  to  wait  and  see,"  Fred  retorted, 
angrily.  "  I  must  give  these  letters  to  Mr.  Whipple." 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

As  he  went  in  the  old  man's  office,  he  found  the  gro 
cer  pacing  up  and  down,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  his  brow 
dark  with  passion.  He  waved  the  letters  from  him. 

"Open  'em  yourself,"  he  said.  "I'm  going  home.  I 
feel  like  a  candidate  on  election  night  who  didn't  get 
a  vote  in  his  own  precinct.  I  don't  intend  to  stay  down 
here  where  everybody  can  pick  at  me.  I  heard  what 
that  whelp  said  to  you  and  Dick.  They  are  all  gloating 
over  me  like  buzzards  over  a  dead  ox.  When  you  come 
up  to  supper,  bring  the  night  mail  with  you." 

He  strode  from  the  room,  and  Fred  heard  his  de 
spondent  step  on  the  resounding  floor  all  the  way  to  the 
rear  door  of  the  long  house. 

Fred  worked  over  his  books  and  out-of-town  orders 
till  near  sunset;  then  he  took  down  his  coat  and  hat. 

"  It  might  work,"  he  mused.  "  At  any  rate,  there 
can  be  no  harm  in  asking  him  about  it."  He  went  out, 
and,  turning  into  a  quiet  side-street,  he  walked  up  to 
the  comfortable  home  of  his  employer,  which  stood  on 
a  slight  elevation  among  the  best  houses  of  the  place. 
It  occupied  a  small  lot,  as  did  its  neighbors,  and  there 
were  no  grass  or  flowers  about  it.  It  was  built  of  yel 
low  bricks,  and  had  a  porch  in  front,  against  which,  on 
a  lattice,  some  vines  were  growing. 

As  he  entered  the  gate  an  elderly  woman  approached 
the  front  door  and  stood  waiting  for  him.  It  was 
Stephen  Whipple's  wife,  a  gaunt  woman  in  a  simple 
black  dress  without  ornament,  and  wearing  her  iron- 
gray  hair  brushed  smoothly  over  her  brow. 

"You  are  earlier  than  usual,"  she  said.  "I  hope 
you  have  good  news.  I  don't  think  he  can  stand  it 
much  longer.  I  have  never  seen  him  so  much  troubled 
in  my  life.  His  pride  is  cut  to  the  quick.  He  has  al 
ways  thought  he  could  cope  with  trickery  in  any  form, 
and  being  helpless  this  way  under  the  taunts  of  those 
men  is  fairly  killing  him.  If  he  was  thoroughly  at  him- 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

self  he  might  hold  his  own,  but  he  is  getting  old,  and 
being  mad  this  way  really  keeps  him  from  using  his 
best  judgment." 

"No,  nothing  has  turned  up  yet,"  Fred  told  her; 
"but  I  thought  I'd  speak  to  him  before  supper." 

"  Well,  he'll  be  glad  to  see  you,  anyway,"  the  woman 
said,  plaintively.  "  He  thinks  a  lot  of  you,  Fred — in 
fact,  we  both  do.  He  has  often  said  he  blesses  the  day 
you  came  to  him.  He  is  lying  down  on  the  lounge  in 
your  room.  Some  of  the  neighbors  were  in  just  now 
chattering  about  the  thing,  and  he  slipped  up  there  to 
keep  from  hearing  what  was  said." 

Fred  found  his  employer  stretched  out  at  full  length 
on  a  lounge  in  the  big,  light  room  which  he  had  occupied 
for  over  two  years. 

"Oh,"  Whipple  said,  "it's  you!  Well,  has  anything 
turned  up — I  mean — but  I  know  nothing  has.  Nothing 
can  succeed  against  a  gang  of  plotting,  ungrateful  dogs 
like  they  are.  I've  boosted  'em  up  through  every  panic 
and  hard  spell  that  come,  keeping  some  of  'em  afloat 
when  they  didn't  have  a  dollar  in  their  pockets,  and 
now  they  not  only  knife  me,  but  they  make  a  public 
joke  of  it." 

"Mr.  Whipple,  I've  been  trying  to  think  of  some 
way  to — " 

" Oh,  you  have?  Well,  spit  it  out! — spit  it  out!"  And 
the  merchant  suddenly  threw  his  feet  around  and  sat  up, 
clutching  the  edge  of  the  lounge  with  his  big  hands, 
while  he  stared  anxiously  from  dilating  eyes  that  were 
all  but  bloodshot. 

"Of  course,  I  hesitate  to — "  Fred  began  modestly, 
but  was  interrupted  by  Whipple. 

"  Hesitate ! — hesitate  the  devil !  It  is  always  that 
way  with  you,  although  you've  got  the  safest,  soundest 
judgment  of  any  young  man  in  the  West.  You  hesi 
tated  to  tell  me  you  thought  San  Antonio  would  be  a 

177 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

good  place  to  put  an  agent,  and  it  has  proved  the 
biggest  opening  we  ever  had.  You  hesitated  before 
advising  me  against  that  Eastern  salt  company  that  had 
been  sucking  my  blood  for  years  before  you  came  and 
smelt  out  their  thievery.  You  hesitated  to — but,  darn 
it,  quit  hesitating!  This  is  no  time  to  hesitate;  we  are 
in  a  dirty  fight,  and  twenty  yellow  dogs  are  on  top  of 
us  gnawing  the  meat  from  our  bones." 

"Well,  I've  been  thinking  over  it  all,  Mr.  Whipple — " 
Fred  was  slightly  flushed — "  and  there  is  only  one  way  I 
can  see  to  make  any  move  at  all;  but  that  really  does 
seem  to  me  to  offer  some  chance  of — " 

"  Move  ?     What  is  it  ?     For  God's  sake,  what  is  it  ?" 

"Why,  you  know  you  own  the  large  retail  store 
building  which  v/as  vacated  when  Stimpson  Brothers  gave 
up,  and  you  have  not  found  a  suitable  tenant,  there 
being  no  one  but  Thorp  who  wants  it.  It  is  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  retail  section,  and  the  best-furnished  build 
ing  in  town,  with  the  best  show-windows,  and — " 

"Yes,  yes;  but  what  of  that?"  Whipple  burst  out, 
impatiently.  "  I  don't  care  a  snap  for  the  rent  of  a 
mere  house  when  I  am  being  literally  choked  to  death 
by  a  mob  of  devils." 

"It  wasn't  that,"  Walton  said;  "but  there  are  hun 
dreds  of  your  personal  friends  in  town  who  would  gladly 
buy  their  home  supplies  from  you  if  you  would  only 
accommodate  them.  There  are  many  first-class  whole 
sale  houses  which  conduct  retail  stores  in  the  towns  they 
are  in,  and,  you  know,  none  of  them  ever  had  a  better 
reason  for  doing  it  than  you  now  have.  It  wouldn't 
hurt  your  trade  out  of  town  a  bit,  for  your  customers 
are  not  concerned  in  this  fight;  and  a  big,  first-class,  up- 
to-date  retail  store  in  the  centre  of  town,  supplied  from 
our  stock,  would — " 

Whipple  sprang  up.  His  eyes  were  dancing  with  delight. 
He  leaned  over  Walton  and  put  his  hands  on  his  shoulders. 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  Great  God,  why  didn't  /  think  of  that  ?"  he  chuckled. 
"  My  boy,  you  are  a  dandy! — you  are  a  wheel-horse!  It 
will  work  like  a  charm.  The  thing  advertises  itself. 
We'll  make  'em  quake  in  their  socks.  They  will  laugh 
on  the  other  sides  of  their  faces  now.  And  the  beauty 
of  it  is,  we  can  flaunt  the  thing  on  the  public  ten  days 
before  they  can  receive  their  first  shipment;  we'll  bill 
the  town  in  the  morning,  and  cover  the  front  of  the 
new  store  with  black  letters.  Whoopee!  whoopee!" 
And  in  his  heavy  boots  old  Whipple  actually  executed 
a  clumsy  clog-dance.  "  And  we'll  let  Dick  manage  it," 
he  went  on,  as  he  paused  panting.  "  That  sort  of  pro 
motion  would  be  a  feather  in  his  cap.  As  for  you, 
you've  got  to  pilot  the  big  ship,  my  boy.  A  head  like 
yours  needs  big  things  to  deal  with.  Lord,  I  see  Thorp's 
face  now,  and,  as  for  that  other  gang  of  cutthroats,  they 
will  actually  die  of  dry  rot!" 

Whipple  gave  another  whoop,  and  shuffled  his  feet 
thunderously. 

"What  is  the  matter  up  there?"  It  was  Mrs.  Whip- 
pie's  astonished  voice  from  below. 

"Matter  nothing!"  her  husband  replied,  as  he  leaned 
over  the  balustrade  in  the  corridor  and  looked  down. 
"  Put  the  best  supper  you  can  rake  up  on  the  table. 
Kill  the  fatted  calf,  and  don  the  royal  purple!  Me  and 
this  boy  is  going  to  celebrate.  He  has  saved  the  ship! 
Get  out  a  bottle  of  that  grape  wine,  and  let  joy  be 
unconfmed.  We're  in  the  fight  to  stay  now,  and  we're 
going  to  have  a  feast — a  regular  war-feast!" 


CHAPTER  V 

£BOUT  ten  days  after  the  happenings 
(recorded  in  the  foregoing  chapter  old 
'Simon  Walton  sat  alone  in  his  office. 
A  typewriter  was  clicking  in  the  count 
ing-room  adjoining,  its  sound  deadened 
by  the  closed  door  and  thin  partition 
through  which  it  passed.  With  noiseless  tread  Toby 
Lassiter,  now  older,  more  careworn,  more  machine-like 
than  ever,  entered  and  laid  a  bulky  express  envelope 
before  his  employer. 

"What  is  this?"  the  banker  asked,  as  he  examined 
the  heavy  wax  seals  and  reached  for  his  paper-knife. 

"I  don't  know,  sir;  it  came  just  now,"  and  Toby 
silently  withdrew. 

Walton  clipped  the  twine,  pried  under  the  seals,  and 
tore  open  the  thick  paper.  It  contained  money.  Six 
five-hundred-dollar  bills  were  drawn  out  and  laid  on 
the  desk.  Wondering  what  it  meant,  the  old  man 
looked  into  the  envelope.  There  was  a  letter,  and  it 
covered  several  pages  of  paper.  A  glance  at  the  writing 
caused  him  a  dull  thrill  of  surprise.  There  was  no 
address  from  which  it  was  written,  and  it  bore  no  date. 
It  ran  as  follows : 

MY  DEAR  FATHER, — I  am  sure  you  will  be  surprised  to 
hear  from  me.  I  would  have  written  before  this  if  it 
could  have  done  either  of  us  any  good.  As  I  wrote  you 
when  I  left,  I  had  determined  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  if 

1 80 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

such  a  thing  were  possible.  It  was  an  awful  fight  against 
big  odds. 

Finally,  however,  I  happened  to  meet— and  it  was  when 
I  had  almost  given  up — a  rich  man  with  a  good  heart  who 
befriended  me,  and  offered  me  a  position  in  his  big  whole 
sale  store.  I  had  a  struggle  with  myself  as  to  what  I  ought 
to  do  in  regard  to  revealing  my  past  life,  but  I  finally  de 
cided  to  tell  him  the  truth,  and  I  am  glad  to  say  he  over 
looked  it  all  and  became  my  friend  and  benefactor.  I 
never  knew  it,  when  I  was  a  wild,  headstrong  boy,  bent 
on  ruining  myself  and  you,  but  I  now  realize  that  every 
growing  soul  needs  some  sort  of  incentive  to  endeavor, 
and  I  have  found  two  which  have  helped  me  a  lot.  The 
first  was  to  refund  by  honest  earnings  what  I  took  from 
you,  the  next  to  prove  my  worthiness  of  the  trust  my  em 
ployer  placed  in  me  when  all  hope  was  lost.  I  see  now 
that  I  never  could  have  overcome  my  bad  habits  if  I  had 
stayed  on  in  Stafford.  It  was  getting  out  into  the  world 
and  learning  what  it  means  to  fight  adversity,  with  no  one 
to  lean  on,  that  helped  me.  When  I  think  over  what  you, 
yourself,  had  to  go  through  with  to  get  your  start  in  life, 
and  remember  that  I  was  deliberately  throwing  away  the 
hard-won  rewards  of  your  efforts,  the  blood  of  shame 
fairly  boils  in  my  veins. 

I  am  sending  herewith  three  thousand  dollars,  which 
are  my  savings  up  to  date.  I  had  got  together  only  twenty- 
five  hundred,  but  when  my  employer,  at  my  suggestion, 
succeeded  in  putting  a  certain  deal  through  the  other  day 
which  he  considered  advantageous  to  his  interests,  he  in 
sisted  on  adding  five  hundred  dollars  to  the  amount  which 
I  had  told  him  was  going  to  you.  I  am  sending  the  money 
by  express  instead  of  by  draft  on  any  bank,  for  I  would 
still  prefer  for  you  not  to  know  where  I  am  at  present. 
When  I  have  made  the  last  payment  on  my  debt  (if  you 
will  let  me  call  it  that),  I  may  feel  differently,  but  until  I 
am  able  to  clear  it  all  up  I  shall  still  hide  from  you  and 
everybody  who  knew  me  in  the  past.  I  do  hope  you  will 
read  these  lines  kindly.  I  have  wronged  you  (terribly 
wronged  you),  dear  father,  but  I  am  trying  now  to  live 
right,  and  surely  you  will  be  glad  to  know  that,  even  at 

181 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

this  late  day.  Concealing  my  whereabouts  may  anger  you, 
I  am  well  aware  of  that;  but  the  good  man  for  whom  I 
am  working  thinks  it  is  best — for  a  while,  at  any  rate.  Of 
course,  if  I  could  have  a  talk  with  you,  I'd  know  better  how 
you  look  at  the  matter,  but  being  so  far  away  leaves  me 
no  alternative  than  to  let  things  remain  as  they  are. 
Good-bye,  dear  father.  It  has  taken  six  years  to  get  to 
gether  the  money  I  am  sending,  but  if  I  live  and  keep  my 
health  I  feel  reasonably  sure  that  I  can  send  the  balance, 
including  the  interest,  within  the  next  two  years,  for  I  am 
doing  much  better  than  I  was. 

When  he  had  finished  reading  the  letter,  Simon  Walton 
laid  it  on  the  desk  before  him  and  sat  in  deep  thought 
for  several  minutes.  Then,  with  no  visible  trace  of 
emotion  on  his  wrinkled  face,  he  took  the  money  in  his 
hands,  laid  it  on  the  letter,  and  rose  and  went  to  the 
door  opening  into  the  counting-room.  He  stood  look 
ing  at  the  workers  for  several  minutes,  and  then,  hap 
pening  to  catch  the  glance  of  Toby,  who  was  dictating 
to  a  stenographer,  he  signalled  him  to  approach.  Hand 
ing  him  the  letter  and  the  bills,  he  said,  curtly: 

"  Credit  the  money  on  my  private  account,  then  read 
that  letter  carefully  and  bring  it  back  to  me.  Don't 
let  anybody  see  it.  It's  private." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  the  clerk.  "  I  was  just  dictating 
a  note  to  Morton  &  Co.,  telling  them  that  we  can't  pos 
sibly  extend — " 

"Never  mind  about  that  now,"  Walton  ordered, 
sharply.  "  Do  as  I  tell  you!"  And  he  turned  back  into 
his  office,  where  he  sat  slowly  nodding  his  great,  shaggy 
head,  as  was  his  habit  when  making  up  his  mind  over  any 
matter  of  importance. 

"Huh!"  he  said,  suddenly  and  with  a  sneer,  "that's 
it!  I  can  see  through  a  millstone  if  it  has  a  big  enough 
hole  in  it.  Huh,  yes,  that's  it!  I'd  bet  a  yearling  calf 
to  a  pound  of  butter  that  I  am  onto  the  game,  and  it  is 

182 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

one,  too,  that  would  take  in  nine  men  out  of  ten."  He 
tapped  his  brow  with  his  pencil  and  smiled  craftily. 
"Deep  scheme;  good  scheme;  bang-up  idea!  Might 
have  pulled  the  wool  over  my  eyes  once.  But  a  burnt 
child  dreads  the  fire,  and  I've  certainly  been  burnt." 

The  door  creaked.  Toby  Lassiter,  with  the  letter 
quivering  in  his  excited  hand,  approached.  His  leth 
argic  face  was  filled  with  emotion;  his  mild  eyes  were 
glowing  ecstatically. 

"  I  always  thought — I  mean  I  always  hoped,  Mr.  Wal 
ton — that  it  would  turn  out  this  way."  He  started  to 
say  more,  but  checked  himself  as  his  glance  fell  on  the 
parchment-like  face  craftily  upturned  to  his. 

"Yes,  I  know,  Toby!"  Simon  snarled,  as  he  took  the 
letter  and  put  it  into  his  desk  drawer.  "  You  always 
thought  the  scamp  had  sprouting  wings,  and  now  you 
are  sure  they  are  full  size.  That  is  why  you  have  never 
risen  higher  in  life,  Toby.  Your  eyes  are  too  easily 
closed.  Leave  it  to  you,  and  we'd  never  foreclose  a 
mortgage  on  a  widow  with  a  full  stocking  hid  away 
under  her  hearth.  Believing  in  heaven  on  earth  has 
held  many  a  man  back  from  prosperity." 

"Then  you  don't  think — you  don't  actually  believe 
that  Fred—" 

"Set  down  in  that  chair,  Toby.  Me  and  you  are  the 
only  folks  in  Stafford  that  know  how  that  boy  buncoed 
me,  and  I  reckon  it's  only  natural  for  me  to  be  willing 
to  talk  about  it  when  there  is  anything  to  say.  I  en 
dured  several  years  of  that  fellow's  devilment,  and  I'm 
not  calculated  to  be  fooled  as  easily  as  others  might 
who  never  had  him  on  their  hands.  You  see,"  the 
banker  went  on,  as  his  clerk  lowered  his  thin  person 
timidly  into  a  chair  and  leaned  forward — "  you  will  note 
that  he  writes  that  he's  got  a  good,  substantial  job  with 
a  rich  man,  who,  while  he  knows  all  about  the  boy's 
devilment  here  at  Stafford,  has  completely  overlooked 
13  183 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

it.  Huh !  we  all  know  the  world  is  full  of  men  of  capital 
who  are  ready  to  take  in  a  runaway  thief  and  hand  over 
three  thousand  cool  plunks  to  him  just  to  show  good- will 
and  the  like !  To  begin  with,  Toby,  that  is  an  underhanded 
slap  at  me;  it  is  saying,  in  a  roundabout  way,  that  a 
plumb  stranger  is  giving  a  son  of  mine  a  chance  that  he 
never  had  at  home.  But  the  tale,  from  start  to  finish, 
is  a  lie  out  of  whole  cloth,  as  I  have  good  and  private 
reason  to  know." 

"Do  you  think  so,  Mr.  Walton?"  Lassiter's  fallen 
countenance  sank  even  lower. 

"Of  course  I  think  so,  or  I  wouldn't  be  sitting  here 
telling  you  about  it.  I  haven't  been  idle  on  this  thing, 
Toby,  though  I  never  let  anybody  know  what  I  was  up 
to.  You  see,  I  am  an  old  man  now,  and  in  law  I  never 
had  but  one  heir  to  my  effects,  outside  of  my  present 
wife,  and  it  struck  me  as  pretty  queer  for  that  heir,  dis 
inherited  on  paper  or  not,  to  keep  absolutely  out  of  sight 
and  sound  all  these  years  when  as  big  a  plum  as  I  am 
supposed  to  be  is  still  aboveground.  You  see,  the 
scamp  has  got  what  some  folks  would  call  a  'natural 
expectancy,'  even  on  the  chance  of  breaking  any  will  I 
might  make,  and  you  can  bet  there  are  plenty  of  men 
slick  enough  to  speculate  on  such  chances,  slim  as  they 
might  look  to  me  or  you.  So  you  see,  Toby,  knowing 
all  that,  I  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  developments.  I 
decided  first  of  all  to  keep  a  watch  on  the  young  woman 
he  left  high  and  dry  and  in  such  a  miserable  plight.  I 
used  to  sort  o'  saunter  by  her  mammy's  house  once  in  a 
while.  Sometimes  I'd  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  girl  by 
accident,  but  she  kept  as  well  hid  as  any  mole  that 
ever  burrowed  in  the  ground.  Sometimes  I'd  see  her — 
when  she  was  to  be  seen  at  all — daubing  away  at  some 
picture  or  other  on  a  peaked  frame,  and  I  must  say  that 
every  time  I'd  see  her  looking  so  neat  and  pretty,  with 
her  fine  head  of  hair  flowing  over  her  brow  in  that  easy, 

184 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

fluffy  sort  of  way,  and  them  big,  deep,  babyish  eyes  of 
hers — well,  to  come  to  the  point,  I  began  to  think  that 
it  wasn't  quite  natural  for  any  fellow  to  go  clean  off  and 
leave  such  a  creature  behind  for  good  and  all.  You  see, 
she's  too  good-looking,  too  attractive,  for  any  man  to 
drop  once  he  was  favored,  and — well,  it  made  me  sus 
picious,  to  say  the  least.  Then  I  begun  to  notice  the 
child,  who  was  always  hemmed  up  in  that  little  pen  of 
a  yard,  and  never  allowed  to  stick  his  head  out  or  have 
any  playmates.  I  saw  that  he  was  always  rigged  up  as 
fine  as  a  fiddle,  looking  as  if  he'd  just  come  out  of  a 
bandbox;  and  as  I  knew,  from  personal  knowledge,  that 
the  old  lady  had  no  income  to  speak  of,  except  the  rent 
on  her  barren  little  farm,  I  used  to  wonder  where  the 
cash  was  coming  from.  Now  and  then  I'd  see  Watts 
&  Co.'s  delivery  wagon  leaving  groceries  at  the  back 
door,  and  I  found  out  through  them,  on  the  sly,  that  the 
grub  bills  was  always  paid.  Then  what  do  you  think 
I  did?  I  did  some  bang-up,  fine  detective  work,  if  I  do 
say  it.  I  nosed  around  until  I  found  out,  through  a 
clerk  in  the  express  office  here,  that  packages  of  money 
were  coming  pretty  regularly  to  the  sly  little  lassie  from 
somebody  in  Atlanta  who  called  himself  *F.  B.  Jenkins.' 
Whoever  it  was,  was  using  the  express  to  hide  his  tracks, 
instead  of  sending  bank-checks,  which  might  come  to 
my  attention,  as  Fred  well  knew." 

"  So  you  think,  Mr.  Walton — you  think — " 
"  I  think  Fred's  letter  is  a  lie  out  of  whole  cloth,"  old 
Simon  blurted  out.  "I  don't  think  he  is  at  work;  I 
don't  think  it  was  ever  in  him  to  work  in  any  capacity ; 
but  I  do  believe  he  has  set  out  to  make  good  that  short 
age  for  a  deep-laid  reason.  Some  sharper  or  money- 
shark  may  be  backing  him,  or  he  may  have  had  a  tem 
porary  streak  of  luck  at  poker  or  cotton  futures,  and 
has  decided  to  invest  something  in  me,  as  too  big  a  fish 
to  remain  unhooked.  I  don't  swallow  one  word  of  his 

185 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

mealymouthed  tale.  I'd  bet  my  last  dollar  he's  this 
F.  B.  Jenkins,  and  that  he  has  been  hanging  around 
Atlanta  all  these  years,  keeping  himself  out  of  sight, 
and,  like  as  not,  coming  here  now  and  then  under  cover 
of  night  to  see  that  woman.  That's  why  she  has  kept 
so  close  at  home.  They  have  guarded  the  child,  too, 
so  that  he  wouldn't  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag.  Toby,  if 
I  wanted  to — if  I  just  wanted  to — I  could  put  a  watch  on 
that  cottage  and  nab  our  man  in  less  than  a  month.  I 
say,  if  I  just  wanted  to." 

"Then  you  wouldn't  arrest  him,  Mr.  Walton?"  Las- 
siter  breathed,  in  relief. 

"Well,  not  now,  at  any  rate,"  Walton  said,  grimly. 
"  We  are  too  solid  in  every  way  now  for  such  a  thing  to 
do  us  any  great  financial  damage,  but  I  don't  fancy  the 
idea  of  stirring  up  the  stench  again.  He  has  put  in  a 
pretty  big  amount  to  start  with,  and  he  won't  lie  idle 
after  that.  Mark  my  words,  we'll  hear  from  Atlanta, 
and  it  will  be  apt  to  come  through  the  fellow  that  calls 
himself  F.  B.  Jenkins." 


CHAPTER  VI 

[,  here  you  are,  you  old  agnostic!"  Wynn 
Bearing  called  out  jovially  to  Gait,  one 
'afternoon  when  he  found  the  railroad 
'president  walking  to  and  fro  on  the 
!  veranda  of  the  latter's  home.  "  If  you 
so,  we'll  go  in  the  house,  and  I'll 
make  that  examination  here  and  save  you  the  trouble  of 
coming  down  to  my  pigpen  of  an  office." 

"  You  could  do  it  here,  then  ?"  said  Gait,  a  weary  look 
on  his  pale  face. 

"  Easy  enough ;  I've  got  my  stethoscope  in  this  satchel. 
I've  just  been  across  the  street  to  see  a  negro  with  a 
wrhiskey  liver.  He  is  a  goner,  I  guess,  but  I  have  more 
hopes  of  you.  Your  trouble  may  be  found  in  those 
cigar  boxes  your  railroad  friends  are  sending  you.  If 
it  is  that,  I'll  cut  you  down  to  one  a  day,  and  smoke  the 
rest  myself." 

They  had  gone  into  the  big  library,  the  walls  of  which 
were  hung  with  family  portraits  in  oil,  and  lined  with 
long,  low  cases  filled  with  Gait's  favorite  books. 

"Take  the  big  chair,"  Bearing  said,  "and  open  your 
shirt  in  front." 

Gait  tossed  his  half-smoked  cigar  through  an  open 
window  and  complied.  The  examination  was  made,  and 
questions  in  regard  to  diet  and  habits  were  asked  and 
answered.  Bearing  said  nothing  as  he  put  his  instru 
ment  into  the  satchel  and  closed  it.  He  stood  over  his 
patient,  eying  him  critically. 

187 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  It  looks  to  me  like  you  are  fundamentally  as  sound 
as  a  dollar,"  he  said,  his  fine  brow  furrowed,  "but  your 
case  puzzles  me  a  lot.  To  be  frank,  you  are  entirely 
too  thin,  your  cheeks  are  sunken,  your  skin  is  dry,  and 
your  eye  dull.  You  are  very  nervous,  and  are  grow 
ing  gray  hairs  as  fast  as  crab-grass.  Somehow,  I  don't 
think  you  need  any  sort  of  medicine.  Now,  if  you  were 
not  absolutely  the  luckiest  man  in  Georgia,  I'd  think 
you  had  something  to  worry  about.  Worry  has  killed 
more  men  than  all  the  plagues  on  earth;  but  that  can't 
be  your  trouble,  for  every  good  thing  in  life  has  come 
your  way.  You  had  a  great  ambition  a  few  years  ago, 
but  you  gratified  it;  surely  you  don't  want  to  own 
any  more  railroads." 

"  No,  one  is  enough,"  Gait  answered,  with  a  faint, 
forced  smile.  "I  can't  say  that  I  am  worrying  over 
that." 

"Well,  the  condition  of  the  minds  of  patients,"  said 
Bearing,  "is  the  biggest  thing  doctors  have  to  tackle. 
We  can  hold  our  own  with  a  disease  of  the  body,  be 
cause  we  can  see  it  and,  at  least,  experiment  with  it  for 
good  or  bad;  but  when  the  seat  of  the  thing  is  in  a  man's 
soul,  and  he  won't  uncover  it,  but  keeps  fooling  him 
self  and  his  doctor  by  looking  for  it  under  his  hide  or 
in  his  blood  or  bones,  why,  we  are  at  a  standstill.  I 
had  a  patient  once  who  certainly  had  me  at  my  wit's 
end.  He  was  sound  as  you  are  physically,  but  he  was 
restless,  dissatisfied,  morbid,  lonely,  and  utterly  miser 
able.  I  exhausted  every  resource  on  him.  I  sent  him 
to  specialists  all  over  America,  but  they  were  as  help 
less  as  I  was.  Finally,  in  sheer  desperation,  I  took  the 
bull  by  the  horns  and  asked  him  if  he  had  anything  on 
his  mind  of  a  disagreeable  nature.  He  hung  his  head, 
and  I  knew  then  that  something  was  wrong.  I  pumped 
him  adroitly,  assuring  him  that  all  private  matters  were 
held  in  confidence  by  a  physician,  and  he  finally  made  a 

1 88 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

clean  breast  of  it.  He  was  a  rich  man,  but  every  dollar 
he  owned  had  been  accumulated  from  money  stolen 
from  another  man,  and  a  man  who  had  failed  in  life 
and  died  in  abject  poverty." 

"Ah,  I  see!"  Gait  sat  more  erect,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
Bearing's  face.  "That  was  his  trouble;  and  what  did 
he  do  about  it?" 

"  Died  hugging  the  rotten  thing  to  his  breast,"  the 
doctor  said;  "and  that  is  the  way  with  most  of  them. 
He  couldn't  face  the  music — he  couldn't  confess  to  the 
puny  little  world  around  him  that  he  wasn't  what  it 
had  always  thought  him.  Perhaps  he  had  gone  too 
far  to  believe  in  the  cure  that  God  has  made  possible 
for  every  poor  devil  in  toils  of  that  sort.  That's  the 
trouble.  Spirituality  has  to  be  practised  to  be  a  reality. 
Faith  cures  of  all  sorts  have  their  place  in  the  world, 
for  a  sick  soul  will  certainly  make  a  sick  body." 

"So  you  believe  in  rubbish  of  that  sort,"  Gait  said, 
contemptuously. 

"To  the  extent  I  have  indicated,  yes,"  Dearing  re 
plied.  "  I  think  I  could  demonstrate  scientifically  that 
health  of  body  and  faith  in  something  higher  than  mere 
matter  go  hand  in  hand.  Tell  a  weak  man  that  his 
body  is  sound,  and  he  will  gain  strength;  convince  a 
man  that  he  is  hopelessly  old,  and  he  will  no  longer  be 
buoyed  up  by  the  hope  of  life.  Show  him  his  grave, 
and  he  will  begin  to  measure  himself  for  it.  Therefore — 
and  here  is  where  I  am  going  to  hit  you,  you  old  athe 
ist,"  Dearing  continued,  half  jestingly  —  "let  a  man 
constantly  argue  to  himself  that  life  ends  here  on  earth, 
and  he  will  wither  away  physically,  as  he  already  has 
spiritually;  for  what  would  be  the  incentive  to  live  if 
death  ends  all  ?  I  meet  all  sorts  of  men  and  women,  and 
the  healthiest  old  codgers  I  run  across  are  the  old  chaps 
who  believe  they  are  sanctified.  They  may  be  as  close 
as  the  bark  of  a  tree,  absolutely  proof  against  any  sort 

189 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

of  charitable  impulse,  but  the  belief  of  their  immortality 
keeps  them  pink  and  rosy  to  their  graves;  half  of  them 
die  only  because  they  want  a  change  of  residence,  and 
expect  to  own  a  corner  lot  on  the  golden  streets  of  the 
New  Jerusalem.  The  preachers  teach  us  that  we've  got 
to  go  through  a  lot  of  red-tape  to  be  saved,  but  I  believe 
the  time  will  come  when  immortality  will  be  demon 
strated  as  plainly  as  the  fact  that  decayed  matter  will 
reproduce  life  in  a  plant." 

"Oh,  life  is  too  short  to  argue  on  these  things,"  Gait 
said,  wearily.  "  You  have  always  seen  the  thing  one 
way,  and  I  another.  I  am  in  good  company.  The 
greatest  minds  of  the  world  have  believed  as  I  do.  I 
can't  say  that  I  want  to  live  forever." 

"Well,  I  do — I  do,"  returned  Bearing.  "There  was 
a  time,  thanks  to  my  early  association  with  you,  by- 
the-way,  when  I  doubted;  but  I  always  had  a  frightful 
pang  at  the  thought  that  the  wonderful  mystery  of  life 
must  continue  to  be  a  closed  book  to  me.  I  fought  it, 
Kenneth,  old  man — I  fought  that  thought  day  and 
night,  because  my  soul  was  so  enamoured  with  the  great 
secret  that  I  could  not  give  it  up;  and  now — well,  on  my 
honor,  the  faith  in  it  has  become  my  very  existence. 
Without  that  prospect  I'd  stop  right  here.  I'd  not 
care  to  move  an  inch.  I'd  as  soon  cut  your  throat  as 
to  treat  you  as  a  friend.  But  I  didn't  come  to  preach. 
What  is  that  you've  got  stacked  up  on  the  table — 
drawings  for  another  trunk-line?" 

"No."  Gait  rose  languidly  and  smiled.  "I'll  show 
you  something  very  pretty.  You  know  I  am  fond  of 
good  pictures,  and  I  flatter  myself  that  I  have  discov 
ered  a  genius.  There  is  an  art  dealer,  F.  B.  Jenkins, 
in  Atlanta,  whom  I  know  pretty  well,  and  he  called  me 
in  the  other  day  to  show  me  some  water-color  pictures 
by  a  young  girl,  who,  it  seems,  is  too  modest  to  allow 
her  name  to  be  used.  Then,  too,  I  think  he  regards 

190 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

her  as  his  find,  and  doesn't  want  other  dealers  to  know 
about  her.  I  bought  these." 

Gait  opened  a  big  portfolio,  and  began  taking  out  the 
pictures  one  by  one.  "Where  has  any  one  ever  seen  a 
child  more  lifelike  than  that  one?  Why,  it  is  actually 
walking  away  from  the  paper;  and  look  at  that  one  on 
the  fence,  and  this  boy  with  the  top  and  string!" 

"  Why,  good  gracious!"  Bearing  cried  out,  impulsively, 
as  he  stood  transfixed  by  surprise,  "  I  know  who  did 
that  work — I—  But  he  checked  himself  suddenly. 

"  You  know  who  did  it?"  Gait  said,  facing  him  in 
surprise.  "  What  do  you  mean,  Wynn.  Do  you  really 
know  anything  about  it?" 

"I  spoke  without  thinking,"  Bearing  said,  awkward 
ly.  "  You  know,  a  physician  sometimes  runs  across 
matters  which  he  is  obliged  to  regard  as  confidential, 
and,  since  the — the  lady  doesn't  want  to  be  known,  I 
could  not  feel  free  to  mention  her  name;  besides,  you 
know,  I  might  be  mistaken." 

Bearing  turned  from  the  pictures  and  moved  toward 
the  door. 

"  I  am  satisfied  that  you  could  tell  more  about  it  if 
you  would,"  Gait  said.  "  I  really  would  like  to  know, 
for  I  have  never  run  across  pictures  I  liked  so  well. 
And  to  think  they  are  done  by  some  young  woman  who 
may  not  know  how  good  her  work  really  is!" 

"  I  know  nothing — absolutely  nothing,"  Wynn  said, 
with  a  non-committal  smile.  "But,  if  I  did,  I  wouldn't 
trust  it  to  you  or  any  other  man,  so  there  you  are.  Why 
haven't  you  been  over?  Uncle  Tom  and  Madge  look 
for  you  every  afternoon  to  join  them  at  tea.  You'd 
better  come  soon;  they  are  off  for  New  York  in  a  few 
days." 

"New  York!"  Gait  exclaimed,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes;  you  know  they  go  up  there  every  summer  for  a 
ten  days'  stay,  visiting  the  Marstons.  Old  Marston 

191 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

was  a  colonel  under  my  uncle  in  the  war.  He  went  to 
New  York  after  peace  was  declared  and  invested  all  he 
had  left.  He  is  now  a  big  tea-and-coffee  importer,  and 
worth  a  lot  of  money.  Mrs.  Marston  likes  Madge,  and 
gives  her  a  big  time  once  a  year.  It  is  always  a  picnic 
for  uncle  and  her.  They  start  off  like  jolly  school-chil 
dren.  They  have  the  time  of  their  lives  from  the 
moment  they  leave  till  they  get  back  all  tired  out  and 
coated  with  dust.  Now,  you  look  after  your  health,  Ken 
neth.  Lie  around  this  quiet  old  house  and  take  a  good 
rest.  Keep  those  bookcases  with  their  lying  contents 
closed,  and  read  sound,  hopeful  literature,  and  I'll  see 
that  you  stay  above  ground  for  a  good  many  years  to 
come." 

"  If  I  could  only  get  you  to  read  those  books,  instead 
of  the  namby-pamby  stuff  issued  by  the  Sunday-schools 
for  the  edification  of  children  who  still  believe  in  Santa 
Glaus,  you'd  be  a  wiser  man,"  Gait  said,  good-naturedly, 
as  he  accompanied  Bearing  to  the  door.  "But,  then, 
I'd  not  have  the  fun  of  arguing  with  you." 

"  I  could  put  up  as  good  an  argument,  even  on  your 
own  side,  as  you  can,"  Bearing  said,  half  seriously.  "  I 
could  give  one  illustration  which  would  prove  to  men 
like  you,  at  least,  that  the  whole  world  is  topsy-turvy, 
and  the  Creator,  if  there  is  such  a  thing,  more  heart 
less  than  any  man  alive." 

"You  could?  Well,  that's  interesting — coming  from 
you,  at  least." 

"It  was  this,"  Bearing  went  on,  now  quite  serious, 
as  he  stood  facing  Gait,  swinging  his  satchel  in  his  hand : 
"As  I  came  in  just  now  I  saw  about  thirty  children — 
little  boys  and  girls — over  on  Lewis  Weston's  lawn.  They 
were  all  rigged  out  in  their  Sunday  clothes  and  playing 
games,  just  as  you  and  I  did  on  the  same  spot  when  we 
were  kids.  It  was  little  Grover  Weston's  birthday,  and 
his  daddy,  being  our  Congressman,  the  undersized  '  four 

192 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

hundred'  were  doing  honors  to  the  occasion.  Even 
from  where  I  stood  I  could  see  the  toys,  wagons,  tri 
cycles,  and  hobby-horses  which  had  been  presented  to 
the  little  Georgia  lord,  and  he  was  strutting  about 
thoroughly  enjoying  the  limelight  that  was  on  him. 
That  was  one  side  of  the  picture.  The  other  side  was 
this :  Down  at  the  lower  end  of  our  place  stood  a  solitary 
little  figure.  Not  one  among  them  all  could  hold  a 
candle  to  him  in  looks  or  brightness  of  mind.  You 
know  who  I  mean;  it  was  the  little  chap  you  took  a 
fancy  to  the  other  day  when  he  jumped  into  your  arms 
from  that  tree.  There  he  stood,  his  bat  and  ball  idle  at 
his  feet,  watching  every  movement  of  the  gay  little 
crowd  across  the  way.  I  couldn't  know  what  his 
thoughts  were,  but,  as  I  stood  looking  at  him,  I  won 
dered  what  I  should  have  thought  at  his  age.  Was  his 
growing  and  supersensitive  mind  already  struggling  with 
the  question  of  inequality?  I  remember  that  I,  at  his 
age,  felt  a  slight  keenly,  and  if  7  did,  with  my  many  ad 
vantages  as  a  child,  what  must  he  feel?  There  is  an 
argument  for  you,  Kenneth.  The  next  time  you  want 
to  prove  the  utter  heartlessness  and  aimlessness  of  God 
and  His  universe,  just  paint  that  picture." 

Gait  made  no  response.  His  blood  seemed  to  turn 
cold  in  his  veins  as  the  grimly  accusing  words  fell  from 
his  friend's  lips. 

"But  that  is  not  the  way  I'm  going  to  let  the  story 
end,  in  my  fancy,  at  least,"  Bearing  continued,  after  a 
pause.  "  Kenneth,  old  chap,  I  see  a  silver  lining  peep 
ing  out  from  beneath  even  that  poor  child's  cloud.  I 
see  the  hidden  hand  of  God  following  the  father  who 
deserted  his  duty  to  flee  to  some  far-off  hiding-place.  I 
see  that  man  hungering  for  spiritual  rest;  I  see  his  very 
crime  humbling  and  sweetening  his  soul  and  causing  him 
to  long  for  what  he  has  left  behind  him.  I  see  the  fort 
une  that  avarice  is  piling  up  in  his  father's  coffers  being 

193 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

turned  to  good  account.  In  short,  I  see  that  boy  and 
his  beautiful  child-mother,  who  never  had  a  fault  but 
that  of  blindly  trusting,  taken  away  somewhere  to  ulti 
mate  happiness." 

"  You  think — you  think — "  Gait  stammered,  unable 
to  formulate  an  adequate  reply. 

"  I  think  the  man  does  not  live  who  could  have  been 
loved  and  trusted  by  Dora  Barry  and  ever  forget  her. 
The  man  does  not  live  who  could  be  the  father  of  such  a 
child  by  such  a  mother — such  as  she  has  grown  to  be 
since  her  great  misfortune — and  not  fight  for  her  and 
her  child  with  his  last  breath." 


CHAPTER  VII 

[HEN  Bearing  had  gone  blithely  down 
the  street,  Gait  strode  up  and  down  the 
veranda,  hot  and  cold,  by  turns,  with 
fury  and  remorse. 

"  To  think  that  any  man  could  lecture 
me  like  that,  while  I  have  had  to  stand 
and  take  it  like  a  sneaking  coward!"  he  fumed.  "I  am 
not  a  jot  worse  than  thousands  of  others  who  were  led 
astray  by  passion.  I  had  to  do  as  I  did.  I  couldn't 
give  up  what  I  had  sought  so  long,  and  fought  for  so 
fiercely.  She  knew  it;  she  admitted  there  was  nothing 
else  to  do.  All  these  years  she  has  not  once  reproached 
me,  and  she  has  kept  her  word — the  secret  is  ours. 
Wynn  says  she  has  advanced,  that  her  solitary  life  has 
only  ripened  her  beauty  of  mind  and  body,  and  she  is 
the  mother  of  my  child — the  little  fellow  I  held  in  my 
arms  the  other  day,  the  outcome  of  a  marriage  as  sacred 
under  high  heaven  as  any  ever  solemnized  at  an  altar." 
He  groaned  as  he  remembered  how  he  and  Dora 
used  to  boast  that  their  superior  mental  attitude,  and 
the  height  and  glory  of  their  troth,  as  compared  to  the 
dull  code  of  the  vulgar  herd,  had  made  them  a  law  unto 
themselves.  He  had  sown  the  seeds  of  such  logic  in 
the  rich  soil  of  her  trusting,  girlish  inexperience.  He 
had  led  her,  as  a  candle  leads  a  moth,  on  to  the  yawning 
brink  of  the  abyss;  he  had  closed  her  gentle  mouth,  even 
as  it  uttered  words  of  love  and  fidelity,  and  then,  by 
sheer  brute  force,  he  had  flung  her  down  to  darkness  and 


THE  REDEMPTION  OP  KENNETH  GALT 

despair.  That  was  the  truth  he  had  not  fully  allowed 
himself  to  face  in  those  years  of  gratified  ambition 
which  had  followed,  and  it  was  the  truth  that  Wynn 
Bearing,  with  his  maddening  manliness,  had  hurled  into 
his  face  to-day.  And  Bearing  had  argued  that  the  end 
was  not  yet — that  the  earthly  struggle  wasn't  all  there 
was  to  man — that  to  eat,  procreate,  and  live  a  certain 
span  of  years  was  not  the  solution  of  the  problem  of 
existence.  How  utterly  absurd !  And  yet  what  was  his 
present  ailment?  It  was  not  of  the  body,  as  he  had 
well  known  when  Bearing  was  speaking  of  his  condi 
tion;  and  since  it  was  not  so,  what  was  it?  What  force 
known  to  science  had  kindled  the  raging  fires  within 
him,  made  him  desire  to  shun  his  own  kind,  and  hate 
the  success  which,  like  a  hellish  will-o'-the-wisp,  had 
once  blazed  over  him.  There  was  nothing  to  do,  of 
course,  but  to  continue  the  fight  on  his  own  lines,  by 
the  light  of  the  reason  born  in  him.  Of  course,  a  man 
could  be  sad  and  gloomy  over  an  old  love  affair  if  he 
continued  to  brood  over  it — if  he  continued  to  allow  it 
to  dominate  him.  Bora  had  accepted  the  inevitable, 
as  any  sensible  woman  would  have  done,  and  it  was 
left  for  him  to  go  on  his  way  unmolested — free!  Gen 
eral  Sylvester  wanted  him  to  marry  his  niece;  she  was 
his  social  equal,  and  in  time  would  be  as  well  off  in 
point  of  fortune.  She  was  a  beautiful,  imposing,  gra 
cious  woman,  and  would  make  a  wife  any  man  would 
be  proud  of.  Yes,  his  duty  to  himself  was  clear,  and 
dreams  like  young  Bearing  indulged  in  would  have  to 
be  banished  for  ever  and  ever.  Yes,  he  would  marry 
Margaret  Bearing,  and  he  and  she  would  travel  the 
world  over.  He  was  ready  to  resign  the  active  manage 
ment  of  the  big  enterprise  he  had  created,  and  he  would 
be  free  in  every  sense.  Yes,  he  would  be  free — just  as 
other  men  were  free. 

He  had  stepped  down  on  the  grass  of  the  lawn  and 

196 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

strolled  round  the  house.  Shouts  and  peals  of  childish 
laughter  came  from  the  yard  adjoining  his  on  the  left, 
and  on  the  grass,  engaged  in  a  joyous  game  of  hide- 
and-seek,  twoscore  boys  and  girls  ran  merrily  about. 
Gait  walked  farther  down  toward  the  lower  boundary 
of  his  premises,  seeking  with  his  eyes  an  object  he  would 
not  have  confessed  to  himself  that  he  desired  to  see — 
the  child  Bearing  had  mentioned.  Now  he  saw  the 
boy,  but  he  was  not  within  the  Bearing  grounds;  Lionel 
had  crossed  over  to  Gait's  land,  and  stood  shielded  from 
the  view  of  the  merrymakers  by  a  hedge  of  boxwood. 
Gait  saw  him  peering  cautiously  over  the  hedge,  now 
stealthily  lowering  his  head,  now  eagerly  raising  it.  He 
was  neatly  dressed  in  white,  as  when  his  father  had  first 
seen  him;  there  was  a  jaunty  grace  about  the  flowing 
necktie  and  low,  broad  collar  which  could  have  been 
accounted  for  only  by  the  taste  of  an  artistic  mother. 
He  held  his  broad-brimmed  straw  hat  in  his  hand,  and 
the  breeze  swept  his  tresses  back  from  his  fine  brow. 

Why  he  did  it  Gait  could  not  have  explained,  espe 
cially  on  top  of  the  resolutions  just  formed,  but  he  went 
down  to  him.  Lionel's  face  was  averted,  and  he  was 
not  aware  of  his  father's  approach  till  his  attention  was 
attracted  by  Gait's  step  on  the  grass.  Then  he  started, 
flushed,  and  with  alarm  written  in  his  face  he  made  a 
movement  as  if  to  run  away. 

"Surely  you  are  not  afraid  of  me?"  Gait  said,  reas 
suringly,  and  in  a  tone  which,  for  its  unwonted  gentle 
ness,  was  a  surprise  to  himself. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  be  on  your  land,"  the  boy  faltered, 
his  great,  startled  eyes  downcast.  "  Boctor  Wynn  said 
I  must  never  leave  his  place.  But  there  wasn't  any  fence, 
and  I — I  saw  the  children  playing  over  there,  and  I 
wanted  to  get  a  little  closer." 

"Well,  you  needn't  be  afraid;  you  have  done  no 
wrong,"  Gait  heard  himself  saying,  as  undefined  pangs 

197 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

and  twinges  shot  through  him.  "  You  may  come  here 
whenever  you  wish." 

"  Oh,  may  I  ?  Thank  you.  You  are  very  good,  and 
I  thought  you'd  be  angry." 

"Angry?  How  absurd!  What  in  the  world  could 
cause  you  to  think  I  could  be  angry  with  a  harmless 
little  chap  like  you?" 

"I  don't  know;  but  I  did.  I  was  sure  at  first  that 
you  liked  me.  You  know  the  day  I  almost  went  to 
sleep  in  your  lap,  when  the  pretty  lady  and  the  old  gen 
tleman  were  at  the  tea-table?  Well,  I  did  think  you 
liked  me  then,  at  first,  you  know,  but  when  the  doctor 
came  and  said  it  was  late  for  children  to  be  out,  you  put 
me  down  quick,  and  got  red  in  the  face,  and  never 
looked  at  me  again." 

There  was  a  rustic  bench  near  by,  and  Gait  sat  down 
on  it.  He  found  himself  unable  to  formulate  a  satis 
factory  reply,  and  he  was  going  to  let  the  remark  pass 
unnoticed,  but  Lionel  came  forward  now  more  con 
fidently,  and  sat  on  the  end  of  the  bench.  A  thrill  akin 
to  that  which  he  had  felt  when  he  discovered  the  identity 
of  the  child  passed  over  Gait.  There  was  an  indescriba 
ble  something  in  the  boy's  great  eyes  so  like  his  mother's, 
in  the  artistic  slenderness  of  his  hands,  in  his  exquisite 
profile,  that  dug  deep  into  the  soul  of  the  man  who  sat 
there  self-convicted  of  the  crime  of  wilful  desertion. 

"Yes,  I'm  sure  something  was  wrong  that  day," 
Lionel  said,  tentatively.  "  I  can  always  'tell  when 
mamma  is  angry  at  me,  and  I  knew  you  were,  for  you 
didn't  say  good-bye.  The  others  didn't,  either,  but  I 
didn't  care  for  them.  I  like  Doctor  Wynn,  and  I  like 
you,  but  that  is  all,  except  Granny  and  my  mother." 

"You  like  me,  and  why?"  Gait  questioned,  almost 
under  his  breath. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  but  I  do.  I  did  when  I  first  saw 
you  looking  up  at  me  in  that  tree,  and  then  when  you 

198 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

held  me  in  your  lap.  I  wanted  to  go  to  sleep  there, 
it  felt  so  good — your  arms  are  so  fine  and  strong.  Doc 
tor  Wynn  says  your  father  was  a  great  soldier,  and  that 
you  have  his  sword  and  a  picture  of  him.  Oh,  I  should 
love  to  see  them!  I'd  like  to  be  a  soldier.  Some  day, 
if  I  am  a  good  boy,  will  you  let  me  see  the  sword?" 

"Why,  yes,  you  may  come — now,  if  you  wish." 

"You  are  joking,  aren't  you?"  Lionel  asked,  in  sur 
prise. 

"No,  I'm  in  earnest.     Come  on!" 

"Really,  do  you  mean  it?" 

"Why,  of  course.     Come  on!" 

They  started  toward  the  house  side  by  side.  Sud 
denly  Lionel  remarked,  timidly,  "  You  haven't  said  you 
like  me  yet,  but  I  suppose  you  do,  or  you  wouldn't  let 
me  go  with  you  in  your  house." 

"Yes,  I  like  you — of  course  I  do,"  Gait  answered, 
lamely  and  abashed. 

"Very,  very  much,  or  just  a  little — which  is  it?" 

"As  much  as  any  boy  I  ever  met;  there,  will  that  do 
you,  little  man?" 

"Have  you  met  many?  That's  the  question,"  the 
boy  laughed  out,  impulsively,  and  then  his  face  settled 
into  gravity  as  he  eagerly  waited. 

"Yes,  a  great  many,"  Gait  answered,  as  he  wondered 
over  the  child's  peculiar  persistency.  Dearing  had  said 
he  was  supersensitive.  Could  the  trait  be  an  unremov 
able  birth-mark  of  the  mother's  unhappiness  when  over 
whelmed  with  the  sense  of  utter  desertion  ?  If  so,  then 
there  was  physical  proof  of  the  Biblical  statement  that 
the  sins  of  fathers  were  visited  on  their  children.  Gait 
shuddered  and  avoided  the  appealing  face  upturned  to 
his.  Again  he  heard  the  musical  voice,  so  like  an  echo 
out  of  the  dreamy,  accusing  past,  rising  to  him. 

"  If  you  did  like  me,  it  looks  like  you  would  take  my 
hand.     I  wish  you  would." 
14  i 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"There!"  Gait  forced  a  laugh  as  he  took  the  soft, 
pulsating  little  ringers  into  his.  As  flesh  touched  flesh 
a  thrill  as  of  new  life  throbbed  and  bounded  through 
him,  and  again  he  had  the  yearning  to  clasp  his  son  to 
his  breast  as  a  woman  would  have  done.  As  it  was,  no 
lover  could  have  felt  the  touch  of  the  hand  of  his  mis 
tress  with  keener,  more  awed  delight.  At  one  time,  in 
a  talk  with  Dearing,  Gait  had  argued  that  even  parental 
love  was  merely  a  physical  function,  like  hunger  for  food, 
but  that  had  been  before  this  perplexing  awakening. 
They  had  reached  the  front  steps  of  the  great  house. 
An  impulse  he  could  not  have  analyzed  led  Gait  to 
think  of  lifting  the  boy  from  the  ground  to  the  floor  of 
the  veranda,  and  he  held  out  his  arms.  The  child 
sprang  into  them;  his  little  arm  went  round  the  man's 
neck,  and  thus  the  steps  were  ascended.  Was  it  a  lin 
gering  pressure  of  affection  in  Lionel's  arm  that  kept 
Gait  from  lowering  him  to  the  carpet  when  they  had 
entered  the  great  hall  ?  He  was  sure  he  would  put  him 
down  as  they  entered  the  library,  but  again  he  refrained, 
for  the  magnitude  and  splendor  of  the  room  had  actually 
startled  the  child. 

"Oh!"  Lionel  exclaimed,  his  eyes  first  on  the  great 
crystal  chandelier,  then  on  the  gilt-framed  pier-glass 
reaching  from  the  floor  to  the  ceiling. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter?"  Gait  asked,  holding  him 
tighter. 

"  I  did  not  know  it  was  so  beautiful,  so  grand!"  Lionel 
cried.  "This  room  alone  is  as  large  as  our  whole  house. 
Ah !  is  that  the  sword  your  father  killed  men  with  ?  And 
will  you  please  let  me  see  it  ?  Could  I  hold  it,  just  once  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  too  heavy  for  you,"  Gait  said,  as  he 
reached  for  the  heavy  sabre  in  its  carved  brass  scabbard 
and  took  it  down  from  a  hook  under  his  father's  portrait. 
"It  wasn't  made  for  little  hands  like  yours.  You'd 
have  to  grow  a  lot  before  you  could  use  it." 

200 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Lionel  stood  down  on  the  floor  as  the  sword  was  put 
into  his  hands.  He  made  a  valiant  effort  to  flourish 
the  unwieldy  blade  as  he  thrust  and  lunged  at  an  imag 
inary  enemy.  "Boom!  Boom!"  he  cried,  his  eyes 
flashing,  "Boom!  t-r-r-r  boom!" 

"Oh,  you've  killed  them — they  are  as  dead  as  door 
nails!"  Gait  laughed,  impulsively.  "Now  your  men 
will  have  a  pretty  time  picking  all  those  corpses  up  in 
an  ambulance." 

"Is  that  your  father?"  the  boy  leaned  on  the  sabre  to 
ask,  as  he  looked  up  at  the  portrait  of  the  elder  Gait. 

"Yes.     Does  he  look  like  me?"  Gait  answered. 

"A  little  bit,  maybe  " — the  child  had  his  wise-looking 
head  tilted  to  one  side  as  he  had  seen  his  mother  stand 
in  criticising  one  of  her  pictures — "but  I  don't  like  it 
much.  It  is  full  of  cracks,  and  so — dauby." 

" '  Dauby '  ?  Where  in  the  world  could  you  have  heard 
that  word?" 

"Oh,  my  mother  says  it  often  when  she  doesn't  like 
one  of  her  pictures." 

The  child  was  now  absorbed  in  the  bronze  dragon 
head  supporting  the  ivory  handle  of  the  sword. 

"  I  see;  perhaps  you'd  like  pictures  of  children  better," 
Gait  said,  and  he  took  up  one  of  the  water-color  sketches 
he  had  shown  to  Bearing.  "Here,  look  at  this  little 
boy." 

"Oh  yes,  that's  me!  Mamma  says  it  is  hard  to  keep 
them  from  all  looking  alike.  Sometimes  I'm  a  boy — 
then  I'm  a  girl,  and  even  a  baby — but  they  are  all  me. 
Mamma  says  I'm  her  bread  and  butter.  But  I  don't 
like  to  sit  for  them;  it  is  too  tiresome  to  stay  still  so 
long.  Sometimes  she  lets  me  play  in  the  yard,  and 
watches  me  through  the  window;  then  I  don't  mind  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say"  -  —  Gait  was  grave,  and  his 
hands  trembled  as  he  picked  up  another  picture,  this 
time  the  sketch  of  a  boy  riding  on  a  spring-board  sup- 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

ported  in  the  middle  by  a  saw-horse,  and  fastened  at 
the  end  to  a  crude  rail-fence — "  do  you  mean  that  your 
mother  really  painted  this?"  And  as  he  spoke  Gait  re 
called  Dearing's  evident  recognition  of  the  work,  and 
his  prompt  reservation  in  regard  to  it. 

"  Yes,  and  stacks  and  stacks  of  others,"  the  child  said, 
abstractedly,  his  little  fingers  toying  with  the  handle  of 
the  sword  again.  "  Is  it  sharp  enough  to  cut  a  man's 
head  off?" 

"  Yes,  yes."  Gait  sat  down  in  a  chair,  his  mind  now 
full  of  startled  memories — Dora's  wonderful  artistic 
taste,  her  early  love  of  music,  books  on  art,  and  the 
drawings  which  she  had  spoken  of  timidly,  but  never 
shown  him.  And  this  was  her  work — the  pictures  he 
had  seen  groups  of  people  admiring,  as  they  hung  in 
the  shop-window  in  Atlanta — and  which  he  knew  was  the 
work  of  actual  creative  genius.  And  it  had  come  from 
the  spirit  he  had  crushed,  exiled  from  humanity,  and  left 
destitute !  His  ambition  had  won  its  sordid  goal  through 
the  darkness  of  damnation,  while  hers — unconscious  of 
its  own  deity— was  growing  toward  the  outer  light, 
like  a  flower  in  a  dungeon.  And  this  was  his  child  and 
hers!  Compounded  in  the  winsome  personality  of  the 
boy  was  all  that  was  good  and  noble  of  her,  all  that  was 
bad  and  despicable  of  him,  and  Bearing  would  say  that 
it  was  not  going  to  end  with  the  temporary  breath  which 
had  been  blown  into  the  little  form.  The  child  was  to 
live  on  and  perpetuate  the  qualities  he  had  inherited. 
He  was  like  a  little  God  now,  in  the  likeness  of  the  child- 
mother  who  had  borne  him,  but  'the  time  might  come 
when  he  would  take  on  to  himself  the  cringing,  soul- 
lashed  features  of  his  father — be  guilty  of  the  same 
crimes  against  virtue  and  eternal  justice,  and  fight  the 
same  cruel  battle  between  spirit  and  flesh,  between  the 
forces  of  light  and  darkness.  God  forbid!  "God!" — 
had  he  actually  used  the  word?  Was  there  such  a 

202 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Being?  He  had  sneered  at  the  thought  all  his  life,  but 
now  the  bare  possibility  cowed  him. 

Lionel,  astride  the  sheathed  sword,  now  half  boy, 
half  prancing  steed,  came  to  him.  "Whoa!  Can't  you 
stand  still,  sir?  Watch  him  kick  up!  Look  out!"  as 
he  pirouetted  about,  "  he'll  get  you  with  his  hind  heels ! 
He  wants  to  run;  something  has  scared  him!  Look 
how  he's  trembling!" 

Gait  laid  his  hand  on  the  sunny  curls,  and  drew  the 
excited  little  horseman  to  him,  gazing  into  the  dreamy, 
fathomless  eyes  so  accusingly  like  Dora's. 

"  I  think  I'd  better  hold  you  both,"  he  said,  in  an 
attempt  at  playfulness.  He  had  heard  sordid  business 
men  who  had  children  say  that  there  was  no  love  like 
that  of  a  man  for  an  eldest  son.  This  was  his  eldest  son, 
if  not  by  the  writs  of  man,  by  the  mandates  of  something 
infinitely  higher. 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  really-really  horse,"  Lionel  ran  on, 
plaintively.  "  Grover  Weston  has  a  pony,  but  mamma 
says  he  can  have  everything  because  his  father  is  rich. 
I  don't  like  him.  He  threw  my  ball  back  over  the 
fence  the  other  day  and  called  me  names.  I  don't 
know  what  he  meant  by  them,  but  my  mother  said  they 
were  not  nice,  and  told  me  not  to  remember  them. 
I've  already  forgot  what  he  said.  It  was  bas — bast — 
How  funny!  I  knew  it  once." 

Gait's  inner  being  seemed  to  shrink  and  wither.  Al 
ready  the  world's  persecution  of  the  innocent  had  be 
gun,  and  the  sensitive,  poetic,  imaginative  child  would 
grow  up  to  a  full  realization  of  his  social  shame.  Nurt 
ured  in  gentleness  and  refinement,  he  was  yet  to  have 
the  scales  which  hid  his  humiliation  torn  from  his  sight, 
and  then  he  would  see;  he  would  understand;  he  would 
know  who  to  blame.  And  he  would  blame,  poignantly 
and  justly.  The  time  might  come  when  this  tender 
sprig  of  himself,  grown  strong,  and  yet  galled  by  his 

203 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

burden,  might  face  his  father  as  the  cowardly  churl 
who  had  stamped  the  unbearable  stigma  upon  him  and 
her.  This  child  might  live  to  curse  him  and  spit  upon 
him.  The  world  might  forgive  in  the  glow  of  his  power 
and  gold,  but  the  one  he  yearned  for  now,  as  he  had 
yearned  for  nothing  before,  would  go  over  his  infamous 
past  as  minutely  as  an  ant  over  the  bark  of  a  rotten  tree- 

The  child  had  put  down  the  weapon  of  his  honored 
ancestor,  and  now  stood  with  his  little  hands  on  the 
knee  of  his  father,  another  side  of  his  personality  upper 
most. 

"  I  don't  care,"  he  said,  in  his  charmingly  premature 
way,  "if  Grover  Weston  doesn't  like  me,  because  you 
say  you  do.  He's  nothing  but  a  mean,  horrid  boy, 
while  you  are — 

"I  am  what,  Lionel?"  Gait's  voice  was  stayed  by 
huskiness  in  his  throat,  and  he  put  an  unsteady  arm 
round  the  little  form,  resisting  the  yearning  to  clasp 
him  tightly. 

"Oh,  you  are  everything — everything  in  the  world. 
Doctor  Wynn  says  you  are  very,  very  rich,  and  that  you 
love  all  little  boys — that's  why  I  jumped  that  day.  I 
wouldn't  be  afraid  to  jump  from  a  higher  tree  than  that 
if  you  were  there  to  catch  me.  Oh,  I  like  to  have  peo 
ple  love  me!  I  like  it  better  than  anything." 

"And  yet  you  do  want  other  things?"  Gait  said, 
tentatively. 

"Oh  yes."  The  child,  guided  by  the  gentle  pressure 
round  him,  slid  between  his  father's  knees,  and,  putting 
his  arm  confidingly  about  Gait's  neck,  he  drew  himself 
to  a  seat  in  the  man's  lap,  and  laughed.  "  Mamma 
says  I  want  the  whole  earth.  I  want  a  bicycle;  and  a 
gun;  and  a  pony;  and  roller-skates;  and — " 

"You  certainly  do  want  a  few  things!"  Gait  tried  to 
jest.  "But  we  can't  have  everything,  you  know,  in 
this  life." 

204 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Not  unless  we  are  rich;  and  we  are  very  poor  at 
our  house ;  but  when  the  expressman  brings  the  money 
for  the  pictures  we  are  very  glad.  Then  we  have  a 
good  dinner.  Last  time  Granny  got  a  dress,  and  I  got 
several  suits  like  this  one.  Mother  says  some  day  we 
may  go  away  off  to  another  country  where  I'll  have 
children  to  play  with.  I  think  that  would  be  nicer 
than  having  toys." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  Gait  responded,  from  the  depths  of  a 
new  and  rasping  remorse,  as  the  boy  reclined  on  his  arm 
and  stretched  out  with  a  delicious  sigh. 

"You  said  you  liked  me,"  the  child  said,  quite  seri 
ously,  "  but  you  never  have  kissed  me — not  once." 

"But  men  don't  kiss  little  boys,"  Gait  answered,  with 
a  start. 

"Oh,  yes  they  do;  Doctor  Wynn  has  often  kissed 
me,  and  hugged  me,  so!"  Lionel  put  his  arms  round 
Gait's  neck,  pressed  his  soft,  warm  cheek  against  the 
cold,  rough  one,  and  kissed  it,  once,  twice,  three  times. 
"  And  I've  seen  Mr.  Weston  kiss  Grover  when  he  runs 
to  meet  him  at  the  gate." 

"We've  known  each  other  such  a  short  time,"  Gait 
apologized,  lamely,  as  the  hot  blood  coursed  through  his 
veins,  and  the  child  released  him  and  lay  staring  at 
him  from  his  great,  reproachful  eyes. 

"  I  don't  care,  you'd  kiss  me  if  you  loved  me  as — as 
much  as  I  do  you.  Won't  you,  just  one  time  ?  Then 
I'll  go." 

"Yes,  I'll  kiss  you — there!"  Gait  said,  as  he  folded 
the  child  in  his  arms  and  pressed  his  lips  to  the  warm, 
pink  brow. 

"I  had  to  make  you!"  Lionel  said,  as  he  stood  down 
on  the  floor.  "  That  is  the  way  I  do  when  my  mother 
is  angry.  I  keep  begging  her  to  kiss  me  till  she  does; 
then  she  laughs  and  hugs  me  tighter  than  ever.  Granny 
says  I  know  how  to  manage  a  woman.  Good-bye.  I 

205 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

thank  you  for  bringing  me  to  your  house.  Now  I  am 
sure  you  like  little  boys." 

After  the  child  had  gone,  Gait  walked  up  and  down 
the  veranda,  his  mind  upon  problems  he  had  never 
faced  before.  He  was  interrupted  by  General  Sylvester, 
who  hurried  across  the  lawn  to  speak  to  him  on  his 
way  down-town. 

"I've  only  a  bare  minute,"  the  old  gentleman  said. 
"  I  suppose  you  know  we  are  off  for  New  York.  You'd 
better  come  along  and  help  us  have  a  good  time." 

"  I  am  afraid  Wynn  would  hardly  prescribe  a  remedy 
so  strenuous  as  that  in  my  case,"  Gait  returned.  "You 
see,  I  was  tied  down  there  recently,  and  got  enough  of 
it  for  a  man  who  is  said  to  need  quiet  and  a  change  of 
scene." 

"That's  true,"  Sylvester  admitted.  "It  was  only 
because  we'd  like  to  have  you  so  much  that  I  men 
tioned  it.  But  we'll  take  you  in  hand  when  we  get 
back.  So  you  be  ready,  young  man." 

When  the  old  gentleman  had  walked  away,  with  his 
springy,  boyish  step,  and  the  gate-latch  had  clicked 
behind  him,  Gait  went  back  into  the  library.  He  gath 
ered  up  Dora's  pictures  with  reverent  hands,  and  took 
them  up  to  his  bedroom.  He  arranged  them  in  good 
positions,  and  stood  looking  at  them  steadily. 

"Yes,  she's  in  them  all,"  he  said.  "Her  weeping 
soul  speaks  out  from  every  one.  She  has  done  those 
things  in  spite  of  the  disgrace  and  misery  that  my 
cowardice  has  heaped  upon  her.  What  must  she  think 
of  me — of  me,  whom  she  once  placed  upon  such  a  pin 
nacle?  Her  own  purity  created  the  place  for  me  in  her 
heart  which  I  once  held,  and  from  which  her  contempt 
has  long  since  banished  me.  I've  lost  her.  I  owe  her 
the  world,  and  can  pay  her  nothing  —  absolutely  noth 
ing!" 

His  attention  was  attracted  to  the  children  on  Wes- 

206 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

ton's  lawn.  They  were  loudly  laughing,  shouting,  and 
singing.  He  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 

"  '  King  William  was  King  James's  son,'  "  they  sang,  as 
hand  in  hand  they  circled  round  on  the  grass.  Gait's 
eyes  rested  only  momentarily  on  the  players.  He  was 
searching  for  some  one  else.  Finally  he  espied  the  ob 
ject  of  his  quest.  Lionel — his  son,  a  full-blooded  Gait, 
and,  for  aught  he  knew,  the  flower  of  the  race — was  hid 
den  behind  a  tree  peering  out  like  a  half-starved  urchin 
at  a  window  filled  with  sweets.  He  stood  erect  and 
motionless,  as  if  hardly  daring  to  breathe  lest  he  be  seen 
by  his  social  superiors. 

"He  is  waking!"  Gait  exclaimed.  "He  is  wondering 
and  pondering.  The  time  will  come  when  he  will  under 
stand  and  remember,  perhaps,  that  I  kissed  him  with  the 
lips  of  Judas — I,  who  should  have  been  his  mainstay  and 
supporter — kissed  him  as  he  lay  in  my  arms,  conscious 
of  my  love  and  ignorant  of  my  weakness.  No,  I  can't 
help  him.  Drawn  to  him  as  I  am  by  every  fibre  of 
my  being,  still  I  must  deny  him.  The  man  does  not 
live  who,  in  the  same  circumstances,  could  act  other 
wise.  I  haven't  the  moral  backbone.  I  simply  haven't." 

Leaving  the  window,  and  sinking  into  a  chair,  Gait 
bent  forward,  locked  his  cold  hands  together,  and  wrung 
them  as  a  man  might  in  the  agony  of  death. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

5VERYTHING  is  as  merry  as  a  mar 
riage  bell,  and  the  goose  hangs  high!" 
Stephen  Whipple  quoted,  with  a 
hearty  laugh,  as  he  and  Fred  Walton 
sat  on  the  old  man's  veranda  after 
breakfast  one  Sunday  morning.  "And 
I'm  a- thinking,  my  boy,  that  the  suspended  fowl  is  none 
other  than  our  fellow  citizen,  J.  B.  Thorp.  He  is  as 
mad  as  a  wet  hen.  He  had  us  plumb  down,  and,  like 
the  bully  he  is,  was  pounding  the  blood  out  of  us  with 
no  thought  of  letting  up.  Then  the  rest  of  the  hungry 
pack  of  wolves  piled  on  top,  and  began  to  get  in  their 
work.  I  was  so  crazy  I  didn't  know  my  hat  from  a 
hole  in  the  ground.  Then  your  keen  young  brain  turned 
the  trick,  and  here  we  are.  Dick  has  got  the  dandiest 
retail  store  that  ever  saw  the  light  in  a  Western  town, 
and  it  is  literally  packed  and  jammed  with  customers." 
"I  am  certainly  glad  it  turned  out  as  it  did,"  Fred 
replied.  "It  has  been  a  great  thing  for  Dick." 

The  merchant  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  Fred  saw 
him  twirling  his  heavy  thumbs  as  he  often  did  when 
embarrassed.  Finally,  after  clearing  his  throat  and 
rather  awkwardly  crossing  his  legs,  he  said: 

"  I've  got  a  silly  sort  of  confession  to  make,  Fred. 
I  reckon  nobody  is,  on  the  outside,  exactly  what  they 
are  within,  and  I've  got  my  faults  like  other  fellows. 
On  the  outside  I'm  as  strait  -  laced  as  a  hard  -  shell 
Baptist,  but  I've  always  hankered  after  a  periodical 

208 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

lark  of  some  sort.  Once  in  a  great  while  I've  taken 
trips  just  for  the  pure  fun'  of  the  thing.  During  the 
Centennial  at  Philadelphia  I  laid  down  everything  and 
went.  I  stayed  a  week,  put  up  at  a  fine  hotel,  and 
lived  as  high  as  I  knew  how.  I  saw  all  that  there  was 
to  see.  Then  I  struck  work  at  one  time  and  went  to  the 
Mardi-gras  at  New  Orleans,  and  then  another  time  I 
hiked  off  to  the  Cotton  Exposition  in  Atlanta.  I  don't 
know  why  I'm  that  way,  but  I  am.  It  is  my  periodical 
spree,  I  reckon.  You  remember  I  told  you  about  my 
boy — the  little  fellow  that  passed  away?" 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  Walton  returned,  sympathetically. 

"Well,  as  he  was  growing  up,  I  used  to  love,  above  all 
things,  for  just  me  and  him — just  me  and  him,  you  know 
— to  go  to  places  together.  Sometimes  it  was  a  ride  in 
the  country,  or  fishing,  or  to  do  something  a  little  boy 
would  like,  but  I  always  sort  o'  kept  the  thought  before 
me  that  when  he'd  reached  man's  estate,  me  and  him 
would  do  some  sure-enough  'bumming,'  as  I  used  to  call 
it — bumming  to  New  York  City,  where  we  could  take  in 
all  the  sights  like  two  boys.  It  may  sound  silly,  but 
that  was  one  thing  I  always  had  to  look  forward  to; 
but  then  he  took  sick  and  died,  and  it  was  out  of  the 
question.  Since  then  I've  never  counted  on  the  New 
York  trip." 

"It  was  sad,"  Walton  said,  gently.  "It  is  a  pity  he 
couldn't  have  been  spared  to  you." 

"  Yes,  but  he  wasn't,"  the  merchant  sighed.  "  He 
wasn't,  and  this  is  what  I  started  out  to  say:  Of  all 
folks  I  have  ever  known  since  my  boy's  death,  you  come 
nearer  filling  his  place  than  any  one  else.  No" — and 
Whipple  held  up  his  broad  hand — "don't  stop  me!  I 
don't  .know  how  it  was,  but  in  our  first  talk  that  night 
you  kind  o'  got  hold  of  my  heart-strings.  I  pitied  you 
as  I  had  never  pitied  a  young  fellow  before  because  of 
the  fight  you  were  making.  I  got  interested  in  it,  and 

209 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

determined  to  help  you  win.  I  prayed  for  you.  You 
were  on  my  mind  the  last  thing  at  night  and  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning.  You'd  said  you  wanted 
the  money  just  to  pay  off  the  debt  you  owed  your 
father,  and  I  would  have  planked  the  cash  right  down 
many  and  many  a  time  if  I  hadn't  been  afraid  I'd 
spoil  a  thing  that  seemed  to  be  of  God's  own  making. 
I  used  to  sneak  and  look  at  your  bank-account.  That 
was  mean,  but  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  saw  your  savings 
piling  up  week  after  week  until  I  forced  that  five  hundred 
on  you,  and  knew  you  had  three  thousand  in  hand. 
Then,  all  at  once,  it  sunk  to  nothing.  Fred,  my  boy,  I 
went  home  that  night,  hugged  the  old  lady,  and  cried. 
You  needn't  tell  me  what  became  of  that  money.  It 
went  to  your  old  daddy  as  fast  as  the  trains  could  take 
it." 

"Yes,  I  paid  him,  Mr.  Whipple.  I  am  still  behind 
two  thousand,  with  the  interest  at  the  rate  he  charges 
his  customers." 

"  He's  a  money-lender  then?"  Whipple  said,  lifting  his 
brows. 

"  Yes,  he — "  Fred  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then 
finished,  "  He  is  a  banker,  in  a  small  town  in — ' 

"Don't — don't  tell  me!"  Whipple  broke  in.  "Don't 
tell  me  a  thing  about  him!  I'm  human  to  the  core.  I 
don't  know  why  it  is,  but  for  a  long  time  I  have  been 
jealous  of  his  blood  claim  on  you.  He  throwed  you  off, 
and  I  want  to  think  that  I  have  some  sort  of  right  to 
you.  He  never  loved  you  as  a  natural  father  should, 
or  he  couldn't  have  driven  you  to  the  wall  like  he  did, 
forcing  you  to  live  off  among  strangers,  away  from  home- 
ties  and  all  the  associations  of  your  young  days.  Oh,  I 
know  I  have  your  good- will,  my  boy!  I  heard  about 
the  way  you  stood  up  for  me  during  the  strike  my  men 
tried  to  get  up.  One  of  the  clerks  told  me  of  the  night- 
meeting  that  was  held,  and  how  you  sprang  into  their 

210 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

midst  like  an  infuriated  tiger,  and  of  the  ringing  speech 
you  made  about  me  and  my  fair  treatment  of  them,  and 
how  they  finally  begged  you  not  to  report  the  matter 
and  slunk  away  like  egg -sucking  dogs.  You  never 
would  have  mentioned  it,  but  it  got  to  me  —  it  got 
to  me." 

"Oh,  I  only  did  my  duty,  Mr.  Whipple."  Fred's 
face  was  dyed  red.  "I  thought  they  were  unrea 
sonable,  and  could  not  help  putting  in  a  word  of 
protest." 

"  You  were  the  only  one  in  the  entire  bunch  that  did 
it,  all  the  same,"  Whipple  said,  huskily.  "  Oh,  I  know 
they  poke  fun  at  me  and  laugh  at  my  peculiarities,  but 
I  don't  believe  you  ever  did.  I  am  coarse  and  awkward 
— I  don't  have  to  be  told  that;  but  I  try  to  be  genuine 
and  fair  to  all  mankind.  But  I've  got  away  off  from 
what  I  started  to  say.  Fred,  there  never  was  a  time 
when  I  felt  more  like  one  of  my  periodical  sprees  than 
right  now.  I  have  never  been  to  New  York,  and  I  can't 
get  over  wanting  to  take  it  in.  My  wife  don't  care  to 
go.  She  says  such  trips  tire  the  very  life  out  of  her. 
She  is  younger  than  I  am  in  years,  but  she  ain't  in  spirit. 
I  want  you  to  lay  off  work  for  a  week  and  go  bumming 
with  me.  Somehow,  I  feel  like  if  you'll  go,  it  will  be 
as  if  my  own  boy  had  lived  and  grown  up  and  was  taking 
the  trip  with  me.  I  want  to  go  by  New  Orleans  and 
spend  a  day  there,  and  then  on  to  the  East,  through 
Georgia,  Tennessee,  and  Virginia.  What  do  you  say, 
Fred?  The  expense  is  nothing.  I  want  to  celebrate. 
For  a  week  I  want  to  be  a  new  man,  and  have  a  high  old 
time." 

"I  should  like  it  very  much,"  Walton  said,  "if  you 
really  want  me  to  go." 

"  Well,  pack  your  grip,  and  we'll  be  off  day  after  to 
morrow.  We'll  tell  the  boys  that  we  have  to  see  our 
New  York  importers  and  our  sugar  men  in  New  Or- 

2IJ 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

leans,  and  they  can  guess  the  rest.  Now,  I'm  going 
up  to  tell  the  old  lady  that  it  is  settled,  and  she  can 
sleep  or  do  any  other  old  thing  she  likes  till  we  come 
back.  We'll  have  a  rip-roaring  time,  Fred.  We'll  go 
all  the  gaits,  even  if  we  get  put  in  the  lock-up." 


CHAPTER    IX 

I  RED  and  his  jovial  employer  spent  a 
day  and  night  at  New  Orleans,  and 
early  the  following  morning  took  a  fast 
train  for  New  York.  Ensconced  in  the 
luxurious  Pullman,  which  contained  few 
other  passengers,  Fred  felt  that  by  re 
maining  close  in  the  car  as  it  passed  through  Georgia  he 
would  run  little  risk  of  being  recognized  by  any  ac 
quaintance  or  friend  of  the  past.  Nevertheless,  as  the 
train  was  leaving  Atlanta  and  speeding  toward  Stafford, 
he  was  literally  besieged  with  gloomy  memories.  Every 
station  or  familiar  landmark  along  the  way  brought  back 
with  crushing  force  occurrences  he  had  completely  for 
gotten.  Once  or  twice  he  fancied  that  Whipple  was 
watching  him  with  an  unusually  sympathetic  eye,  but 
he  put  the  thought  from  him.  Never  having  been  told 
of  the  fact,  how  could  the  old  man  even  suspect  that  he 
was  nearing  the  home  of  his  childhood — the  spot  of  his 
dreams?  He  had  a  yearning  to  confide  more  fully  to 
his  kindly  companion,  but  the  thought  came  to  him 
that  such  a  disclosure  just  now  might  throw  a  damper 
upon  a  journey  which  he  had  determined  should  con 
tain  nothing  but  joy  to  his  benefactor. 

It  was  six  o'clock  when  Cherry  Hill  was  reached. 
Only  seven  rapidly  shortening  miles  lay  between  him 
and  his  old  home.  Fred  sat  at  a  window,  pretending 
to  read  a  newspaper.  It  struck  him  as  highly  incon 
gruous  that  Whipple  should  think  no  more  of  that  par- 

213 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

ticular  town  than  of  any  of  the  others  through  which 
they  had  passed  when  it  means  so  much — so  very  much 
— to  him.  The  time-table  told  him  that  the  train  stopped 
only  a  few  minutes  at  Stafford,  and  he  was  both  glad 
and  disappointed — glad  that  the  short  stop  would  ren 
der  his  detection  the  more  remote,  and  sad  that  he  was 
not  to  see  with  his  actual  eyes  the  spot  dearer  to  him 
than  any  other.  There  was  a  prolonged  scream  from 
the  locomotive's  whistle  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  train. 
Could  it  be  that  the  station  was  reached  ?  No,  for 
through  the  gathering  dusk  Fred  could  see  that  the 
suburbs  of  the  town,  as  indicated  by  the  electric  lights 
in  the  distance,  were  still  half  a  mile  away.  Perhaps 
it  was  to  take  on  water,  he  thought;  but  that  couldn't 
be  the  explanation,  for  the  porter  of  the  car  had  thrown 
up  a  window  and  was  looking  out  inquiringly. 

"What  is  it?"  he  inquired  of  the  porter,  who  had 
drawn  his  head  back  into  the  car. 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  the  negro  answered.  "Some 
thing  must  be  wrong  ahead.  We  never  slow  up  till  we 
get  to  the  crossing."  He  hurriedly  left  the  car,  and 
Fred  followed.  Outside  there  was  a  rushing  to  and 
fro  of  trainmen  with  flags  and  lanterns,  a  jumble  of 
calls  in  stentorian  tones,  the  slow  clanging  of  the  loco 
motive's  bell,  the  exhausting  of  steam.  The  porter 
ran  to  the  porter  of  the  car  ahead,  and  came  back  to 
where  Walton  stood  waiting  on  the  step. 

"Freight-train  knocked  all  to  smash  in  the  edge  of 
town,"  he  explained.  "  Nobody  hurt,  but  it  is  sure  to 
hold  us  here  awhile." 

"We'll  have  to  stop,  then!"  Fred  exclaimed,  fearing  a 
vague  something  which  seemed  to  hover,  like  a  threat,  in 
the  air  about  him.  At  that  moment  he  gave  way  to  the 
superstitious  feeling  that  it  was  the  direct  hand  of 
Providence  which  had  delayed  him  there,  of  all  spots  on 
the  long  journey. 

214 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"It  looks  like  it  now,  sir,"  the  porter  answered;  and 
as  he  left,  Walton  turned  and  saw  Whipple  close  beside 
him. 

"Why,  it  won't  make  any  difference  to  us,"  the  old 
man  said,  in  evident  wonder  over  his  protege's  disap 
pointment.  "We'll  be  sound  asleep  in  our  berths.  I 
don't  know  but  what  I'd  kind  o'  like  one  night's  rest 
without  so  much  jostle  and  motion.  We  can  get  a 
good  breakfast  in  the  dining-car  in  the  morning,  and 
go  on  our  way  as  smooth  as  goose-grease." 

"Yes,  yes,"  Fred  said.  But  the  thought  had  come  to 
him  that  they  might  be  delayed  till  the  next  morning, 
and  the  idea  of  passing  through  his  old  home  in  the 
broad  light  of  day  was  far  from  pleasant.  What  if  he 
should  actually  meet  his  father  or  some  officer  of  the 
law  whose  duty  it  would  be  to  arrest  him,  right  when 
he  had  begun  to  hope  that  he  might  ultimately  earn 
his  freedom? 

Fred  went  back  into  the  car,  followed  by  the  drowsy 
Whipple,  and  took  a  seat  by  a  window.  It  was  open, 
and  by  leaning  out  he  could  see  the  lights  of  Stafford. 
Under  the  skies  he  had  known  as  a  child,  on  the  same 
hillsides,  they  blazed  and  beckoned.  Suppressing  a 
groan,  he  told  himself  that  he  would  go  to  bed  and  try 
to  sleep;  but  he  delayed,  held  in  his  place  by  some  weird 
charm.  At  ten  o'clock,  when  Whipple  was  stowed 
away,  Fred  went  out  of  the  car  once  more.  On  the  side 
track  he  met  the  conductor. 

"How  long  shall  we  be  here?"  Walton  inquired. 

"Till  three  o'clock,  sir,"  the  conductor  said,  as  they 
walked  along  toward  the  locomotive. 

"  I  wonder  if  I'd  have  time  to  walk  to  town  and  look 
around,"  Fred  said.  "I  don't  feel  like  turning  in  right 
now." 

"Plenty,  plenty,"   the  conductor  answered.     "It  is 
only  a  mile  or  so  to  the  square." 
is  215 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Then  I'll  go,"  Walton  said,  and  he  walked  away, 
thankful  that  the  night  was  cloudy.  On  he  went  down 
the  railway,  in  the  streaming  glare  of  the  locomotive's 
headlight,  till  he  reached  the  first  street  leading  into 
Stafford.  Ahead,  in  the  light  of  many  lanterns,  a  throng 
of  trackmen  were  at  work  on  the  wreck. 

How  changed  was  the  landscape  he  had  once  known 
so  well!  Spots  which  had  been  old  barren  fields,  dis 
mantled  brick-yards,  and  stretches  of  forest,  were  now, 
thanks  to  the  enterprise  of  Kenneth  Gait,  filled  with 
cottages,  cotton  factories,  iron-foundries,  and  other  in 
dustries.  To  the  right,  on  a  common,  which  used  to 
be  the  ball-ground  where  the  team,  of  which  Fred  had 
been  the  popular  captain,  had  played  in  his  school 
days,  the  round-house  and  machine-shops  of  the  S.  R. 
&  M.  had  risen.  New  thoroughfares  had  been  opened, 
natural  elevations  graded  away,  and  uncouth  gullies 
filled. 

Taking  the  darker  and  quieter  streets  by  choice, 
Walton  strode  onward,  headed  toward  the  old  part  of 
town,  his  heart  wrung  with  a  pain  more  poignant  than 
any  he  had  ever  felt.  Once,  as  he  was  passing  through 
a  cluster  of  small  houses  which  seemed  inhabited  by 
negroes,  he  saw  a  few  dusky  faces  he  had  known,  and 
recognized  some  familiar  voices  coming  from  the  un- 
lighted  porches  and  open  windows.  On  trudged  the 
wayfarer,  his  step  slow,  his  feet  heavy.  Presently  he 
came  to  a  stone  and  iron  bridge  which  spanned  a  small 
arm  of  the  river,  and,  crossing  to  the  other  side,  he  as 
cended  a  slight  elevation  from  which  he  had  a  view  of 
the  entire  town.  It  was  a  lonely,  unimproved  spot, 
where  a  few  scrubby  pines  grew  and  some  gray  primitive 
bowlders  lay  half  embedded  in  the  ground.  Farther 
along  the  brow  of  the  narrow  hill  stood  the  old  brick 
school,  which,  as  a  boy,  he  had  attended.  A  thousand 
memories  flogged  his  quickened  brain — memories  of 

216 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

those  lost  days,  when  his  gentle  mother  had  dressed  him 
and  sent  him  off  with  a  kiss  and  the  admonition  to  be 
a  good  boy.  She  was  dead,  she  was  gone  forever,  and 
her  prayers  in  his  behalf  had  fallen  on  the  deaf  ear  of 
Infinite  Providence.  He  had  not  been  a  good  boy,  and 
she  had  prayed  in  vain.  Her  grave  was  there  beyond 
the  town's  lights  on  another  hill,  and  he  who  had  been 
the  sole  hope  of  her  motherhood  was  an  alien.  He 
stifled  a  cry  of  sheer  agony.  In  his  active  life  in  the 
West  he  had,  in  a  measure,  dulled  his  senses  to  much  of 
the  past,  but  here,  in  view  of  all  he  had  lost,  it  was  upon 
him  like  a  monster  as  long  and  broad  as  the  universe, 
with  a  million  sinister  claws  sunken  into  his  being. 
There  below  was  the  home  which  might  have  been  his; 
there,  veiled  from  his  sight  by  the  kindly  pall  of  night, 
lived  the  men  and  women  who  might  still  have  been 
his  friends;  there,  too,  lived  the  girl,  the  one  girl  in  all 
the  earth,  who —  He  groaned,  and,  throwing  himself  on 
the  ground,  he  folded  his  arms  and  sobbed.  How  long 
he  remained  there  he  hardly  knew,  but  it  was  late,  for 
the  lights  in  the  houses  below  were  blinking  and  going 
out  one  by  one.  He  was  tempted  to  steal  down  the 
hillside,  now  that  deeper  darkness  offered  shelter,  and 
wander  through  the  streets  he  had  loved  so  well — to 
wander  on  till  he  could  see  his  father's  house.  Perhaps 
he  might  even  pass  Margaret's  home  without  detection. 
It  would  be  a  risk,  an  awful  risk,  he  told  himself,  for  he 
might  be  recognized,  pursued,  and  even  arrested.  His 
hungry  heart  told  him  to  take  the  chance,  his  inbred 
caution  warned  him  strongly  to  return  to  the  car  with 
out  delay,  and  yet  he  lingered.  He  fancied  he  could 
see,  as  his  blurred  eyes  strove  to  probe  the  curtain  of 
darkness,  the  very  spot  his  old  home  stood  upon.  Yes,  he 
would  risk  it.  He  had  been  away  for  years,  and  he  might 
never  return  to  the  old  town  again.  Providence  itself 
had  caused  the  accident  to  which  he  owed  the  opportunity. 

217 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Down  the  incline  he  went,  into  the  quiet  street  below, 
and  along  it  to  another  which  led  toward  his  father's 
house.  Once  he  saw  a  man  and  woman  approaching, 
and  he  stepped  behind  a  high  fence  in  the  grounds  of 
an  old  mill.  He  crouched  down,  and  heard  their  voices 
as  they  went  by,  but  they  sounded  strange  to  him.  He 
followed  now  in  their  wake,  and  saw  them  turn  in  an 
other  direction.  Then  he  saw  a  man  approaching,  but 
he  walked  from  side  to  side  of  the  pavement,  as  if  he 
were  intoxicated,  and  Walton  avoided  him  by  crossing 
the  street  and  pursuing  his  way  on  the  other  side. 

At  last  he  was  at  his  old  home.  The  grounds  were 
the  same  in  size,  but  the  old  house  had  been  repainted, 
and  trees  which  had  been  small  and  slender  were  now 
large  and  dense.  There  was  a  heartless  alteration  in 
the  appearance  of  it  all.  The  white  paint  on  the  house 
somehow  made  it  seem  a  veritable  ghost  of  its  former 
self;  its  whole  aspect  was  cold  and  forbidding.  He 
opened  the  gate  and  entered.  He  was  not  afraid,  for  as 
a  boy  he  had  gone  into  the  grounds  at  any  hour  he  liked ; 
he  had  even  raised  an  unfastened  window  in  the  old 
dining-room,  when  he  had  mislaid  his  key,  and  climbed 
in  long  after  midnight. 

There  was  a  light  in  his  father's  room  on  the  ground 
floor,  but  the  blind  was  drawn  down.  Fred  could  not 
look  in  from  where  he  stood,  so  he  crept  up  close  to  the 
wall,  and  moved  noiselessly  along  against  it  till  he  could 
peer  through  the  crack  between  the  window-sill  and  the 
blind.  He  started  back,  for  in  the  light  of  the  green- 
shaded  lamp  he  saw  his  father  seated  at  a  table  reading 
a  paper.  How  strange  it  seemed  to  see  him  after  all 
those  years!  And  yet  the  banker  had  changed  very 
little.  It  was  the  same  harsh,  imperturbable  face.  In 
it  lay  no  sign  of  concern  over  the  absence  of  the  son 
who  now  loved  him  with  a  woman's  tenderness. 

"Poor,  poor  father!"  the  young  man  said,  in  his 
218 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

heart.  "  I  never  understood  you.  I  didn't  know  what 
life  meant  then  as  I  do  now.  You  are  living  accord 
ing  to  your  lights.  It  was  I  who  was  wrong — wofully 
wrong.  God  help  me!" 

With  a  low  groan  he  crept  away.  Out  into  the  street 
he  went.  He  must  hurry  now,  for  his  time  was  limited. 
There  must  be  no  mistake  about  the  train.  He  must 
not  let  his  employer  suspect  this  stolen  excursion  of  his, 
for  it  would  mar  the  pleasure  of  the  old  man's  journey. 

Fred  now  met  and  had  to  avoid  few  passers-by,  and 
he  hurried  on  to  Margaret's  home,  thankful  that  it  lay 
in  the  direction  of  the  waiting  train.  The  great  struct 
ure  was  wholly  dark,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  life  about 
it.  That  was  her  window;  he  could  plainly  see  it  as  he 
stood  at  the  fence.  But  what,  after  all,  could  it  matter 
to  him?  Perhaps  she  had  not  occupied  the  room  for 
years.  His  heart  seemed  turned  to  stone  as  the  new 
fear  sank  into  him  that  she  might  have  married  and 
moved  away.  She  had  loved  him  once;  he  was  as  sure 
of  that  as  he  was  of  her  honesty.  Yes,  she  had  loved 
him !  She  had  told  him  so  with  her  arms  tightly  clasped 
about  his  neck.  His  shameful  conduct  had  separated 
them  —  that  and  nothing  else.  With  his  head  lowered 
he  turned  away,  wholly  indifferent  now  as  to  whether 
he  was  seen  or  not. 

Almost  before  he  realized  it  the  wrecked  freight-cars 
were  before  him;  the  track  was  being  rapidly  cleared; 
the  headlight  of  the  train  that  was  to  bear  him  away 
was  streaming  on  him  with  insistent  fierceness. 

"How  long  will  you  keep  us  waiting?"  he  asked  the 
foreman  of  the  gang,  who,  in  greased  and  blackened 
overalls,  stood  near  an  overturned  truck. 

"Only  an  hour  or  so  longer.  It  is  past  one  now," 
was  the  reply. 

The  Pullman  was  dimly  lighted  from  the  overhead 
lamps  which  were  turned  low,  but  the  outer  door  was 

219 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

open,  and,  passing  the  porter  half  asleep  in  the  smoking- 
room,  Fred  went  to  his  berth,  drew  the  curtains  aside, 
and  began  to  undress. 

"Is  that  you,  Fred?"  a  low,  anxious  voice  inquired, 
and  Whipple  thrust  his  shaggy  head  out  from  his 
berth. 

"Yes,  sir.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  Mr. 
Whipple?" 

"No;  that  is — "  The  curtains  slowly  parted,  and 
the  old  man  came  out,  completely  dressed,  save  for  the 
absence  of  his  coat,  collar,  and  cravat.  He  looked 
around  cautiously,  and  seemed  relieved  to  find  that 
they  were  the  only  passengers  awake.  He  sank  into  a 
seat  opposite  Fred's  berth  and  sighed.  "I've  been 
awfully  worried,"  he  said.  "  You  see,  my  boy,  I  missed 
you.  I  waited  and  waited  and  couldn't  sleep  a  wink, 
and  the  longer  you  stayed  away  the  worse  I  got.  You 
see,  I  have  my  clothes  on.  I  got  up,  and  went  out  to 
the  wreck,  and  tried  to  find  you.  I  don't  know  what 
got  into  me.  I  was  worried — worried  like  rips." 

"I  felt  restless  and — went  for  a  walk,"  Walton  ex 
plained,  lamely.  "  I  didn't  know  it  was  so  late ;  besides, 
I  thought  you'd  be  sound  asleep  and  not  miss  me." 

"I  reckon  I'm  old  and  childish,"  Whipple  said,  with 
a  forced  laugh.  "The  fact  is,  Fred,  if  the  truth  must 
be  told,  I  reckon  I  feel  powerful  close  to  you.  I  didn't 
know  the  thing  had  taken  such  a  deep  hold  on  me.  I 
reckon  it  is  this  trip  with  just  you  and  me  off  together 
like  two  boys.  I've  got  so  I  think  I  can  detect  when 
you  are  happy  and  when  you  ain't  over  your  old  trouble, 
and  ever  since  morning  I  sort  o'  fancied  you  looked 
uneasy  and  downhearted.  Then  when  you  went  off, 
leaving  me  away  out  here  all  by  myself,  why,  somehow, 
I  was  afraid — actually  afraid  that — 

"  You  were  afraid  that  in  my  despondency  I  might  in 
jure  myself,"  Fred  broke  in;  "but  you  needn't  ever — 

220 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"I  wasn't  afraid  of  any  such  thing!"  Whipple  threw 
in,  almost  indignantly.  "  I  knew  there  was  no  such 
danger  when  you  had  fought  the  fight  you  have  for  six 
years  hand-running,  and  got  as  high  up  as  you  have; 
but  I  was  a  little  afraid — well,  to  be  honest — I  was 
afraid  you  might  have  seen  somebody  on  the  train  who 
you  wanted  to  avoid  on  account  of  matters  long  past 
and  buried,  and  that  you  thought  it  might  be  advisable 
to — to  keep  out  of  sight,  that's  all." 

"It  wasn't  that,  Mr.  Whipple,  I  assure  you,"  Walton 
answered,  in  a  husky  voice,  and  he  sat  down  opposite 
his  friend  and  laid  his  hands  firmly  on  the  old  man's 
knees.  "  The  time  has  come,  Mr.  Whipple,  when  I  must 
tell  you  more  about  my  past  life.  After  I  have  done 
so,  you  will  fully  understand  how  I — 

"No,  no,  I  won't  listen !"  Whipple  raised  his  hands 
in  protest.  "  I  don't  want  to  hear  a  word.  It  wrings 
my  silly  old  heart,  anyway,  to  think  of  what  may  lie 
away  back  there  before  you  come  to  me.  You  seem  to 
be  a  son  of  my  own,  born  to  me  in  your  terrible  trouble, 
and  I  want  to  think  of  you  that  way.  I  thought,  at 
first,  that  it  would  be  a  pretty  thing  to  let  you  pay 
back  the  debt  hanging  over  you  with  just  your  own 
earnings;  but  I  don't  think  so  now.  That  amount  of 
money  would  be  nothing  to  me,  and  you  know  it.  You've 
seen  me  donate  more  than  that  to  causes  that  didn't 
interest  me  one-hundredth  part  as  much  as  this  does. 
My  boy,  when  we  get  to  New  York  I'll  draw  the  money, 
and  you  must  take  it  and  clear  yourself.  I'll  never  rest 
till  you  do." 

"  I  can't  do  that,  Mr.  Whipple,"  Walton  said,  in  a 
grateful  tone.  "  When  I  left  home  I  told  my  father  the 
money  should  be  replaced  by  my  own  earnings,  and  it 
must  be  that  way." 

"  You  can't  keep  me  from  raising  your  salary  if  I 
see  fit  and  proper,"  Whipple  argued.  "You  are  the 

221 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

best  man  I  ever  employed  from  any  standpoint,  and 
you  don't  draw  pay  enough — not  half  enough." 

"  I  can't  let  you  do  it,"  Walton  said,  with  a  grateful 
smile.  "I  am  already  paid  more  than  any  other  man 
in  my  position.  To  give  me  more  would  be  charity,  and  I 
don't  want  that.  I  want  to  pay  my  way  out,  Mr.  Whipple. ' ' 

"Well,  you'll  do  it,"  the  old  man  gave  in,  fervently. 
"  If  you  was  to  be  hampered  now,  my  brave  boy,  I'd 
actually  lose  faith  in  God  and  the  hereafter.  I  honestly 
believe  you'll  get  your  reward,  and  be  reinstated  in  all 
you  ever  wanted.  Now,  good-night.  Sleep  sound,  and 
let's  not  allow  this  to  spoil  our  good  time.  I  reckon 
this  trip  has  sort  o'  turned  your  thoughts  onto  bygone 
days,  but  we'll  have  other  things  to  think  of  in  New 
York.  Good-night,  my  son,  good-night." 

"Good-night,  sir." 

The  heavy  curtains  hid  the  portly  old  man,  and  Wal 
ton  proceeded  to  undress  and  lie  down.  But  he  could 
not  sleep.  What  human  being  with  a  normal  heart 
could  have  done  so  under  like  circumstances  ?  An  hour 
later  the  dull,  rumbling  movement  of  the  car  told  him 
that  they  were  off.  There  was  no  stop  at  the  station, 
but  Walton  propped  himself  upon  his  elbow  and  raised 
the  little  window-shade  and  peered  out  as  they  passed 
through  the  switch-yard  of  the  town.  On  the  plat 
form  a  night-watchman  stood  swinging  a  lantern.  In 
the  rapidly  shifting  glare  of  light  Fred  recognized  him. 
It  was  Dan  Smith,  a  faithful  negro  who  used  to  work  about 
the  bank  and  whom  Fred  had  known  from  childhood  up. 

"Poor  old  Uncle  Dan!"  the  outcast  said,  bitterly,  as 
the  kindly  features  were  spirited  away  in  the  distance. « 
"  You  know  why  '  Marse  Freddie '  had  to  leave,  don't 
you?  It  was  because  he  was  a  thief,  Uncle  Dan.  The 
little  fellow  you  used  to  carry  on  your  shoulders  and  be 
so  proud  of  grew  up  to  be  a  thief — a  thief,  and  he  is 
hiding  now  from  you  and  all  the  rest!" 

222 


CHAPTER   X 

two  friends  had  been  in  New  York 
i  five  days,  and  in  the  continual  round  of 
the  theatres,  and  in  sight-seeing,  with 
1  an  occasional  call  at  some  establishment 
with  which  Whipple  had  dealings,  they 
passed  the  time  very  pleasantly.  The 
pain  caused  by  Fred's  secret  visit  to  his  old  home  was, 
in  a  measure,  assuaged  by  his  constant  effort  to  be 
cheerful  for  the  sake  of  his  benefactor's  enjoyment.  He 
felt  that  he  was  succeeding,  and  the  realization  of  the 
fact  buoyed  him  up  to  further  activity  in  self-oblit 
eration.  On  occasion,  Whipple  acted  like  a  college  boy 
off  on  a  lark.  He  passed  funny  criticisms  on  the  per 
sons  they  saw  on  the  streets  and  in  the  cars,  and  at 
the  table  of  the  cafe"  where  they  got  their  meals  he 
purposely  blundered  over  the  French  words  on  the 
menu,  to  the  great  mystification  of  the  polite  waiter,  who 
found  it  impossible  to  reconcile  actual  ignorance  with 
the  costly  clothing  Whipple  wore  and  his  extravagant 
tips  and  liberal  orders. 

On  the  sixth  morning  of  their  stay  in  the  metropolis 
they  went  down  to  pay  a  promised  visit  to  Lewis  Marston, 
the  importer  of  teas  and  coffees  from  whom  Whipple  had 
received  many  a  shipment  and  had  met  once  or  twice 
in  New  Orleans. 

"  So  this  is  the  Mr.  Spencer  you've  written  me  about 
so  often?"  Marston  smiled  cordially  as  he  was  intro 
duced  to  Fred,  and  begged  them  to  take  seats  in  the 

223 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

spacious  office  of  which  he  was  the  only  occupant. 
"  Young  man,  as  we  used  to  say  in  the  South,  your  ears 
ought  to  burn,  for  your  boss  has  written  me  lots  of  good 
things  about  you.  I  remember  he  wrote  last  winter 
that  his  business  was  growing  out  of  all  bounds,  owing 
to  the  fresh  blood  and  modern  ideas  you  had  put  into 
it." 

Fred  flushed  modestly  as  he  released  the  hand  of  the 
portly,  pink-faced,  side-whiskered  old  merchant. 

"Mr.  Whipple  is  noted  for  his  generosity,"  he  said, 
lamely. 

"  Well,  you  are  the  only  one  of  his  force  he  has  men 
tioned  to  me,  at  any  rate,"  the  importer  said,  persistent 
ly,  "  and  I  know  he  means  it,  for  a  man  who  has  ability 
and  can  be  thoroughly  trusted  is  hard  to  find  these 
days." 

The  three  sat  and  chatted  for  an  hour,  Marston  being 
interrupted  now  and  then  by  a  telegram  or  a  question 
asked  by  some  clerk  who  came  from  an  adjoining  room, 
where  there  was  a  din  of  clicking  typewriting  machines. 
"Now  we'll  have  to  go,"  "Whipple  said,  as  he  arose. 
"  Fred  has  got  some  letters  of  instructions  to  write 
home,  and  I'm  due  in  Wall  Street  at  this  very  minute." 
"To  write  letters!"  Marston  cried.  "Well,  he  needn't 
go  away  to  do  that.  Do  you  see  that  desk  at  the  win 
dow  ?  It  is  for  the  sole  use  of  our  customers.  There 
is  plenty  of  stationery.  Sit  down,  Mr.  Spencer.  I'll 
have  to  leave  soon  myself.  My  wife  is  coming  to  get 
me  to  help  her  select  some  Persian  rugs,  and  you'll  have 
the  whole  office  to  yourself." 

"A  good  plan,  Fred,"  Whipple  exclaimed;  "then  we 
could  meet  at  the  Astor  House  and  take  lunch  together 
at  one  o'clock.  I  want  to  see  what  the  old  place  is  like. 
My  daddy  stopped  there  once  before  the  war." 

"That's  the  idea!"  the  importer  chimed  in.  "Make 
yourself  thoroughly  at  home,  Mr.  Spencer.  If  you  need 

224 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

anything,  just  tap  that  bell  and  the  boy  will  attend  to 
you." 

When  his  employer  had  left,  Fred  sat  down  at  the 
desk  and  began  to  write. 

"Oh,  I  forgot,"  Marston  said,  apologetically,  as  he 
looked  up  from  the  letter  he  was  writing.  "  I  will 
call  a  stenographer,  if  you'd  like  to  dictate  your  cor 
respondence." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  Fred  answered,  "  it  won't  be  neces 
sary;  I  have  only  a  few  lines  to  write." 

He  had  completed  the  task  before  him,  and  was  wait 
ing  for  an  opportunity  to  leave  without  interrupting  the 
merchant,  who  was  busily  writing  at  his  desk,  when 
an  office-boy  came  and  spoke  to  Marston  in  an  under 
tone. 

"Oh,  she's  not  alone,  then!"  the  merchant  said  aloud, 
as  he  pushed  back  his  chair.  "  Send  them  up.  I  am  not 
quite  ready  yet,  and  they  will  have  to  wait." 

A  moment  later  a  cheery  feminine  voice — evidently 
Mrs.  Marston' s — sounded  in  the  corridor  outside,  where 
her  husband  stood  waiting  for  her. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  came  along,  too,  Miss  Margaret," 
Fred  heard  the  old  man  saying.  "You  must  sit  down 
in  my  dusty  office  for  a  moment."  He  made  an  effort 
at  lowering  his  voice,  but  it  was  still  audible.  "There 
is  only  one  man  there,  but  he  is  young  and  decidedly 
good-looking.  By-the-way,  he  is  that  Mr.  Spencer,  the 
phenomenal  young  business  man  I  told  you  about. 
Come  in,  and  I'll  let  you  entertain  him  till  I  can  get 
away.  I've  got  to  run  down  to  the  main  salesroom." 

"And  I've  got  to  telephone  the  cook."  It  was  evi 
dently  Mrs.  Marston's  voice  again.  "We  are  going 
back  to  lunch.  The  General  has  promised  to  meet  us 
there.  Where  is  the  booth?" 

"At  the  end  of  the  corridor,"  Marston  was  heard  di 
recting  her.  "  Now,  come  on,  young  lady.  By  George, 

225 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

that  is  a.  stunning  gown!    The  new  railroad  helped  pay 
for  that,  eh?" 

The  thin  canvas  door  was  pushed  open.  Fred  stood 
up;  his  eyes  dilated;  his  blood  ran  cold.  It  was  Mar 
garet  Bearing  to  whom  the  voluble  merchant  was  cas 
ually  introducing  him. 

Margaret  started  and  paled. 

"Mr.  Spencer!"  she  echoed,  then  quickly  averted  her 
face  fiom  the  inattentive  glance  of  her  host. 

Walton's  eyes  went  down  as  he  bowed,  white  and 
quivering.  He  could  say  nothing. 

"Now,  I'll  leave  you  two  to  get  acquainted,"  Marston 
said,  quite  unconscious  that  anything  unusual  had  hap 
pened,  and,  gathering  up  some  sheets  of  paper  from  his 
desk,  he  hastened  away. 

"Margaret!"  Walton  gasped,  when  they  were  alone 
in  the  awful  silence  of  the  room. 

"Mr.  Spencer? — Spencer?"  the  young  lady  groped,  as 
she  gazed  on  him  in  helpless  wonder. 

"God  forgive  me,  I  had  to  change  my  name!"  he 
panted,  as  he  stood  white  as  death  could  have  made 
him  under  her  timid,  almost  frightened  stare.  "  I  had 
no  other  reason  than  that  I  wanted  to  live  down  my 
disgrace,  and  it  looked  like  it  would  be  impossible  other 
wise.  I  was  a  drowning  man,  Margaret,  grasping  at  a 
straw;  a  new  life  opened  out  to  me,  and  I  entered  it 
with  the  hope  that — 

"  I  understand!"  the  girl  gasped,  and  she  drew  herself 
up  in  pained  haughtiness  and  twisted  her  gloved  hands 
tightly  in  front  of  her.  "But  need  we — talk  about  it?" 

"No,  I  haven't  even  that  right,"  Walton  declared,  as 
he  looked  at  the  woman,  grown  infinitely  more  beautiful 
and  graceful  than  even  her  girlhood  had  foreshadowed. 
"  I  promised  Wynn  the  night  I  left  that  I'd  never  insult 
you  by  coming  in  contact  with  you  again,  or  even  ad 
dressing  a  line  to  you.  I  knew  we  had  to  part — that  I 

226 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

could  best  serve  you  by  going  away  never  to  return. 
Your  brother  was  right.  He  acted  only  as  any  honor 
able  man  should  in  talking  to  me  as  he  did.  I  was  in 
sane  to  aspire  to  your  friendship  with  that  thing  hang 
ing  over  me;  but  it  was  the  insanity  of  love,  Margaret — 
a  love  that  never  can  die.  I  ought  not  to  say  it  now, 
but  what  does  it  matter?  I  am  not  fit  for  you  to  wipe 
your  feet  on.  I  am  still  a  fugitive  from  justice — a 
criminal  living  under  an  assumed  name." 

He  paused,  for  she  had  collapsed  limply  into  Marston's 
chair,  and  was  resting  her  white  brow  on  her  bloodless 
hand. 

"Oh,  don't — it  is — is  killing  me!"  she  cried.  "I  had 
thought  we  might  never  meet  again.  I  was  beginning 
to  hope  that,  in  time,  the  memory  of — of  it  all  would  be 
less  painful ,  but  it  is  revived  again .  Oh ,  it  is  unbearable ! ' ' 

He  took  a  deep,  trembling  breath,  and  moved  a  step 
nearer  to  her. 

"  But  even  you  will  grant  that,  by  continued  effort,  I 
may  purge  my  soul  of  it — at  least,  in  the  eyes  of  God," 
he  said.  "  I  don't  mean  that  I  could  ever  ask  you  to 
receive  me  openly  as  an  equal  after  what  has  happened, 
but  you  will,  at  least,  be  glad  that  I  am  honestly  striving 
to  lead  a  better  life." 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  said — "oh  yes!" 

"And  I  am  not  wholly  living  under  false  colors,"  he 
went  on,  anxiously.  "  I  have  confessed  the  worst  to 
my  employer,  and  he  is  doing  all  he  can  to  help  me. 
He  trusts  me.  I  don't  like  to  say  these  things  in  my 
own  behalf,  and  yet  surely  you  will  forgive  me  for  saying 
that  I  am,  at  least,  not  living  as  I  used  to  live." 

"You  intend  to  make — make  reparation?"  she  said, 
raising  an  awful  glance  to  his  face. 

"  Of  course.  I  have  sent  back  all  my  savings  so  far — 
every  dollar  I  could  get  together;  and  before  another 
year  is  past  I  hope  to  send  enough,  at  least,  to — " 

227 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Money!"  she  cried,  almost  in  a  tone  of  disgust — and 
as  she  spoke  she  had  a  picture  of  a  golden-haired  child 
with  a  sunny  face  playing  on  the  lawn  at  her  home — 
"money!  As  if  that  would  count  in  a  matter  like — 
like  that!" 

"It  is  all  I  can  do  now,  Margaret!"  he  exclaimed,  as 
he  shrank  under  the  unexpected  severity  of  her  words. 

"I  presume  so,"  she  answered,  coldly,  even  sternly, 
and  she  fixed  an  unreadable  stare  on  his  blighted  face; 
"  and  yet  if  you  could  be  back  at  home,  and  see  what  I 
have  seen,  perhaps  you'd  realize  that  there  are  things 
mere  money  cannot  restore.  I  can't  blame  you  wholly 
— to  save  my  life,  I  can't!  The  temptation  was  delib 
erately  put  in  your  track;  you  were  not  born  with  the 
power  to  resist,  and  so  you  fell  like  many  another  man 
has  fallen,  but  you  ought  to  have  stayed  on  at  Stafford 
and  done  your  duty — your  full  duty!" 

"I  couldn't!  I  assure  you,  I  couldn't,  Margaret!"  he 
went  on,  almost  piteously,  his  lips  quivering  under  stress 
of  the  vast  emotion  let  loose  within  him.  "  My  father 
would  have  punished  me  by  law — would  have  deprived 
me  of  every  chance  to  atone  in  the  way  that  I  am  now 
trying  to  atone.  But  I  have  no  right  to  talk  to  you  this 
way.  I  am  breaking  my  promise  to  Wynn.  By  my  own 
act,  I  have  banished  myself  from  you  forever." 

"  Yes,  forever!"  she  admitted,  as  her  proud  head  went 
down.  "There  is  nothing  either  of  us  can  do.  We 
must  try  not  to  meet  again,  even  by  accident.  I  must 
join  Mrs.  Marston  now.  I  hear  her  in  the  corridor. 
You  are  very  pale,  and  she  might  wonder  and  imagine 
all  sorts  of  things.  I'd  have  to  introduce  you,  and  I 
can't  even  remember  your — your  new  name.  I  will  tell 
no  one  at  home  that  I  have  seen  you.  You  may  trust 
that  to  me.  Your  secret  is  safe.  I  can't  recall  the  name 
of  the  place  you  live  in.  I  sha'n't  try.  I  never  have  be 
lieved  it  was  all  your  fault — that  is,  not  all.  Good-bye." 

228 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Good-bye,"  he  repeated,  huskily;  and  he  saw  her 
rise,  and,  without  extending  her  hand,  or  giving  him 
another  glance,  she  moved  unsteadily  toward  the  door. 

When  she  was  gone  he  sat  down  at  the  desk  and  took 
up  his  pen,  and  with  an  inanimate  hand  began  to  address 
one  of  his  letters,  wondering  dumbly  that  such  mere 
details  as  a  street  and  number  and  a  man's  initials 
could  rise  to  his  memory  at  such  a  moment. 

That  evening,  in  the  big  drawing-room  at  the  Mar- 
stons',  General  Sylvester  sat  down  by  his  niece. 

"You  look  tired,"  he  said.  "I  think  you  show  it 
more  than  usual;  being  on  one's  feet  all  day  is  no  little 
tax  on  the  energy.  By-the-way,  we  are  invited  to  a 
big  reception  for  next  Wednesday  evening  at  the  Lang- 
leys'.  It  is  given  to  some  foreign  statesman  or  other. 
I  have  the  card  somewhere.  You  must  look  your 
prettiest  and  wear  the  dandy  gown  I  selected." 

"Why,  it  isn't  for  evening  wear."  Margaret  smiled 
faintly.  "  Besides,  do  you  think  we  ought  to  stay  as — 
long  as  that?" 

"As  long  as  that?"  he  exclaimed.  "Are  you  really 
thinking  of  going  home?  Of  course,  it  lies  with  you, 
dear.  As  far  as  I  am  personally  concerned,  it  doesn't 
matter  one  way  or  the  other.  Say,  little  girl,  are  you 
really  homesick?" 

"  I  think  I  am,  Uncle  Tom."  She  avoided  his  eyes, 
which  were  so  solicitously  bearing  down  on  her  from 
beneath  their  heavy  brows.  "  I  presume  the  novelty 
of  this  sort  of  thing  soon  wears  off,  and  our  home  is  so 
soothing  and  restful." 

"Ah,  I  smell  a  rat!"  the  General  said,  teasingly. 
"  I  forgot  about  that  lonely  bachelor  neighbor  of  ours. 
We  were  to  look  after  him,  weren't  we?  Well,  we'll 
go  back,  and  you'll  encourage  him  a  little  more,  won't 
you?" 

The  girl  shuddered,  an  irrepressible  sob  struggled  up 

229 


within  her,  and  her  head  sank  to  her  tightly  clasped 
hands. 

"  Oh,  how  can  you  say  such  a  thing  ?"  she  asked,  under 
her  breath.  "  I  don't  love  him.  I  know  I  can  never 
do  so  now,  and  to  think  of  what  you  want  is — horrible!" 
To  the  old  man's  utter  bewilderment  she  rose,  placed 
her  handkerchief  to  her  lips,  and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XI 

[ENNETH  GALT  was  now  living  the 
life  of  a  recluse  in  his  old  home.  The 
tendency  to  this  sort  of  existence  be 
longs  to  rare  and  exceptional  tempera 
ments.  He  kept  assuring  himself  that 
it  was  to  be  only  for  a  time,  that  when 
Sylvester  returned  with  his  stately  niece  he  would  crawl 
out  of  his  morbid  husk  and  bask  in  their  genial  hospi 
tality.  Of  course,  he  told  himself,  this  gloomy  period  of 
solitary  self-accusation  simply  must  not  continue.  He 
had  taken  steps  which  no  living  man  could  retrace  in 
his  decision  in  regard  to  Dora's  fate  and  the  fate  of  her 
child,  and  there  was  nothing  left  for  him  to  do  but  to 
try  to  forget  his  part  in  the  tragedy.  If  he  now  feared 
that  he  might  never  again  have  complete  peace  of 
mind  in  regard  to  the  girl's  condition,  it  was  due  to 
his  present  unwise  proximity  to  her,  and  to  his  queer, 
almost  ecstatic,  pride  in  his  son.  Some  men  are  coarse 
enough  to  have  a  contempt  for  the  rights,  social  and 
otherwise,  of  their  own  children  of  illegitimate  birth; 
but  Kenneth  Gait,  in  despising  many  of  the  laws  of 
man,  gave  little  Lionel  the  credit  of  being  the  product 
of  a  law  he  himself  had  made,  and  which,  therefore,  was 
worthy  of  consideration.  In  some  States  the  declaration 
by  a  pair  that  they  intend  to  live  together  constitutes  a 
legal  marriage,  and  it  was  with  that  broad  view  that 
Dora,  blinded  by  faith  in  the  superior  knowledge  of 
her  lover,  had  unquestioningly  delivered  herself.  He 
16  231 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

shuddered  as  the  conviction  struck  into  him  that,  under 
the  same  temptation  that  had  swerved  him  from  fidelity 
to  their  pact,  she  would  have  remained  firm.  She 
was  scarcely  more  than  a  child  when  he  deserted  her. 
What,  he  asked  himself,  had  she  developed  into  ?  Dear- 
ing  said  she  was  more  beautiful  than  ever,  and  as  for 
her  advance  in  strength  of  mind  and  soul,  there  were 
her  pictures  to  witness.  And  as  he  looked  at  them  day 
after  day  their  subtle,  creative  depth  grew  upon  him. 
He  had  made  a  fair  financial  success;  but  what  he  had 
done,  he  now  told  himself,  was  only  what  butchers  and 
cobblers  had  accomplished.  What  she  was  doing,  in 
her  exile  from  her  kind,  was  the  work  of  deathless  in 
spiration.  Bearing  had  once  aptly  said  that  God  used 
Evil  as  the  fertilizer  to  the  soil  of  Good,  and  if  so,  to 
carry  the  analogy  further,  Gait,  in  his  craving  for  the 
praise  of  the  world,  and  in  his  cowardly  shrinking  from 
Right,  was  the  impure  soil  in  which  the  flower  of  Dora's 
genius  was  being  nurtured.  Yes,  there  was  no  denying 
it.  Fate  was  playing  a  sardonic  game  with  him.  Dora, 
cloaked  in  suffering  frailty,  and  championed  by  Truth 
and  Spirit,  was  pitted  against  him,  the  carping,  sour- 
faced  apostle  of  man's  puny  material  rights;  she  would 
go  on,  and  he  would  go  on.  What  would  be  the  goal, 
and  which  the  ultimate  winner?  He  had  argued  that 
the  grave  and  nothingness  comprised  the  pot  of  dross 
at  the  end  of  every  life's  rainbow;  but  was  he  right? 
Could  that  mysterious,  compelling  sense  of  fatherhood; 
the  thrill  of  boundless  ecstasy,  when  he  held  Lionel  in 
his  arms;  the  awful  brooding  over  the  boy's  future; 
the  infinite  rebuke  of  the  child's  fathomless  eyes — could 
such  things  be  mere  functions  of  matter  ? 

He  was  in  his  library  when  these  reflections  were  pass 
ing  through  his  brain,  and  his  attention  was  attracted 
by  children's  voices  somewhere  outside  raised  to  a  high 
pitch  of  anger.  Stepping  to  a  window,  he  looked  out 

232 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

toward  the  house  of  his  neighbor,  Congressman  Weston. 
He  was  just  in  time  to  see  Weston's  son,  Grover,  climb 
over  the  low  paling  fence,  and,  with  a  loud  and  abusive 
threat,  approach  Lionel,  who  was  shorter  by  a  head. 

"You  said  I  shouldn't  say  it  again,"  he  cried,  "but 
I  do !  She  is  not  fit  for  anybody  to  go  with.  My  mother 
wouldn't  notice  her,  and  no  other  nice  lady  would.  Peo 
ple  don't — they  don't  go  near  her!" 

Gait's  blood  was  shocked  to  stillness  in  his  veins,  and 
then,  as  if  by  reactionary  process,  it  began  to  boil.  He 
saw  the  erect  figure  of  his  son  stand  as  if  stunned  for  an 
instant,  and  then,  like  a  young  tiger,  Lionel  sprang  at 
the  other  boy,  his  little  hands  balled.  Gait  heard  the 
blows  as  they  fell  on  young  Weston's  fat  cheeks,  and  he 
chuckled  and  ground  his  teeth  in  blended  satisfaction 
and  rage.  He  sprang  through  the  open  window  to  the 
grass,  and  hurriedly  skirted  a  clump  of  boxwood  just  in 
time  to  see  Grover  Weston  recovering  from  the  unex 
pected  onslaught  and  beginning  to  rain  blow  after  blow 
upon  Lionel's  white  face.  The  contest  was  close,  de 
spite  the  inequality  in  ages  and  sizes;  but  the  nameless 
scion  of  the  Gaits,  unconscious  of  his  heritage  of  bravery, 
was  unconquerable.  He  was  there  to  fight,  justly 
roused  as  he  was,  to  his  last  breath.  For  one  instant 
Grover  tore  himself  from  Lionel's  bear-like  clutch,  and 
stood  glowering  in  sheer  astonishment  from  his  battered 
and  bruised  face. 

"You  little  bastard,  I'll — "  And  he  suddenly  hurled 
his  fist  into  Lionel's  face  with  all  his  force.  It  was  a 
staggering  blow,  but  Lionel  met  it  without  a  whimper 
or  the  loss  of  a  breath.  He  sprang  again  at  his  assailant, 
and,  catching  him  around  the  neck  with  his  strong  left 
arm,  he  battered  the  other  boy's  face  with  blow  after 
blow. 

"Hit  him — that's  right,  hit  him,  Lionel!"  Gait  cried 
out,  in  utter  forgetfulness  of  his  own  incongruous  posi- 

233 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

tion.  "  Beat  his  nasty  face  to  a  pulp  while  you've  got 
him!  If  you  don't  do  it  now,  he'll  down  you  when  he 
gets  free.  Give  him  his  medicine,  and  give  him  a  full 
dose.  That's  the  thing — trip  him  up!" 

Without  sparing  an  instant  to  look,  but  having  recog 
nized  Gait's  voice,  Lionel  bent  his  wiry  body  toward 
accomplishing  the  trick  advised.  The  two  combatants 
swung  back  and  forth,  still  bound  together  by  Lionel's 
clutch,  till  finally  they  went  down  side  by  side.  And 
then  ensued  another  struggle  as  to  which  should  get  on 
top. 

"Throw  your  leg  over!"  Gait  cried  out.  "Ah,  that's 
a  beauty!  Now,  beat  him  till  he  takes  it  back!" 

Lionel  needed  no  such  advice.  His  little  fists  moved 
like  the  spokes  of  a  turning  wheel.  A  shrill  howl  of  de 
feat  rose  from  the  conquered  bully,  and  he  uttered  a  pro 
longed  scream  of  genuine  alarm.  Then  emerged  from 
a  side  door  of  the  Weston  house  no  less  a  personage 
than  the  Congressman  himself,  and  he  ran  across  the 
grass,  taking  flower-pots  and  beds  of  roses  at  long  leaps. 

Reaching  the  fighters,  he  grasped  Lionel  by  the  collar 
of  his  blouse  and  drew  him  off  of  his  cowering  son. 
And  as  he  held  him,  squirming  like  a  cat,  he  turned  on 
Gait.  "Damn  it,  man!"  he  cried,  in  breathless  fury, 
"what  do  you  mean  by  standing  here  and  encouraging 
this  brat  to  fight  my  boy?" 

"Why,  I  only  wanted  to  see  fair  play,  that's  all," 
Gait  replied,  a  dangerous  gleam  in  his  eyes.  "  I  hap 
pened  to  hear  your  big  bully  of  a  son  dare  the  little  one 
to  fight  him,  and  he  brought  it  on  by  insulting  the  little 
fellow's  mother.  God  bless  him,  he  didn't  need  my 
advice.  He  could  whip  two  such  whelps  as  yours,  and 
never  half  try!  He  hasn't  a  cowardly  bone  in  his  body! 
He  was  all  there!" 

"Well,  it  seems  to  me,  you  are  in  a  pretty  business!" 
Weston  retorted,  white  with  rage. 

234 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"I  might  be  even  more  active  than  I  am,  Weston," 
Gait  said,  with  cold  significance,  "and  if  you  are  not 
satisfied  with  the  part  I  have  taken,  you  only  have  to 
say  the  word.  You  know  that  well  enough." 

The  Congressman  was  taken  aback.  There  was  some 
thing  in  the  unruffled  tone  and  meaning  stare  of  his 
neighbor's  eyes  that  perplexed  and  quelled  him.  He 
now  turned  upon  his  sniffling  offspring. 

"You  go  in  the  house!"  he  said,  angrily.  "You  are 
always  picking  at  some  child  under  your  size.  I  have 
noticed  it."  Weston  was  a  politician  before  anything 
else,  and  the  thought  of  turning  against  him  a  man  who 
controlled  as  many  votes  as  did  the  president  of  the 
greatest  railway  in  the  State  was  not  particularly  in 
viting. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  offend  you,  Gait,"  he  said,  as  his 
boy  limped  away,  still  mopping  his  eyes  with  his  fists. 
"I  reckon  I  got  hot  because  it  was  my  own  flesh  and 
blood.  Of  course,  it  was  natural  for  you  to  sympathize 
with  the  smaller  of  the  two." 

"That's  the  way  /  felt  about  it,  Weston,"  Gait  said, 
staring  coldly  at  the  speaker.  "  I  have  nothing  at  all 
to  apologize  for." 

"Well,  I'll  see  that  Grover  behaves  himself  better  in 
future,"  the  Congressman  said,  still  with  his  political 
eye  open  to  advantages.  "Of  course,  it  would  be  nat 
ural  for  a  child  like  mine  to  pick  up  remarks  floating 
about  among  older  people  in  regard  to  the  mother  of — " 

"We'll  let  that  drop,  too,  Weston!"  Gait  snarled. 
His  lip  quivered  ominously  as  he  glanced  significantly 
at  Lionel,  who  was  listening  attentively,  the  blood  from 
a  bruised  nose  trickling  down  to  his  chin  and  neck. 

"All  right,  I  understand,"  the  Congressman  said; 
and  he  moved  awkwardly  away,  wondering  what  man 
ner  of  man  the  frigid  and  reticent  Gait  was,  after  all. 

"I  suppose  I've  got  myself  in  a  pretty  mess,"  Lionel 

235 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

remarked,  ruefully,  when  Weston  had  left  him  and  his 
father  together.  "My  mother  has  made  me  promise 
time  after  time  not  to  fight;  but,  you  see,  I  did." 

"  Yes,  I  see  you  did,"  Gait  responded,  a  lump  of  queer 
approval  in  his  throat. 

"I  couldn't  help  it — I  really  couldn't,"  Lionel  said, 
with  a  rueful  look  at  his  hands,  which  were  covered 
with  the  blood  of  his  antagonist.  "I  must  be  a  bad 
boy;  but  oh,  I  couldn't  let  him  say  my  beautiful  mother 
— my  sweet  mo — "  He  choked  up.  "I  couldn't — I  sim 
ply  couldn't!  She  is  so  sweet  and  good!  I  couldn't 
help  it!" 

"Of  course  not,  but  don't  worry  about  it,"  Gait  said, 
sunken  to  depths  of  shame  he  had  never  reached  be 
fore.  "  You  must  try  to  forget  it  —  forget  the  whole 
thing." 

"I  am  afraid  my  mother  will  find  out  about  it,  and, 
you  know,  she  mustn't,"  the  child  said,  his  great  eyes 
filled  with  concern.  "  She  would  ask  what  the  boy  said, 
and  Granny  says  she  must  never  be  told  nasty  things 
children  say  to  me.  Such  things  make  her  sad  and 
keep  her  from  painting.  She  must  not  find  out  about 
this — this  fight." 

"Well,  she  really  need  not  know,"  Gait  said,  as  the 
heat  of  his  shame  mantled  his  face  and  brow. 

"But  she  will,"  Lionel  insisted,  gloomily,  "for  she  is 
sure  to  see  this  blood  on  me.  It  is  on  my  neck,  and 
running  down  under  my  collar.  Do  you  suppose  I 
could  get  it  off  without  soiling  my  waist?" 

Gait  unbuttoned  the  broad  white  collar,  and  drew  it 
away  from  the  child's  neck. 

"It  hasn't  touched  it  yet,"  he  said.  "Wait  a  mo 
ment!"  And  he  adroitly,  and  yet  with  oddly  quivering 
fingers,  inserted  his  own  handkerchief  between  the 
collar  and  the  trickling  blood.  "  Now  come  into  the 
house,  and  I'll  fix  you  up.  Your  clothes  are  a  little 

236 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

rumpled,  but  when  I  have  washed  the  blood  off  no  one 
need  know  about  your  fight." 

"Oh,  that  would  be  a  fine  idea!"  Lionel  exclaimed, 
joyfully.  He  put  his  little  hand  into  his  father's,  and 
together  they  went  into  the  house.  "She  won't  know, 
will  she?" 

"No,  she  need  not  know,"  Gait  said  aloud;  but  in  his 
thought  he  added:  "Lionel,  you  are  a  little  gentleman. 
You  are  a  living  proof  that  blood  will  tell." 

The  lonely  man's  heart  was  warmed  by  an  inward 
glow  of  pride  which  was  quickly  succeeded  by  an  icy 
breath  of  despair  that  seemed  to  blow  over  him.  This, 
he  reflected,  was  only  the  introductory  part  of  the  vast 
soul  tragedy  he  himself  had  put  on  the  stage  of  exist 
ence.  The  trials  he  had  encountered  through  young 
manhood  were  naught  to  those  foreshadowed  in  the  un 
suspecting  and  trusting  face  at  his  side. 

"Here  is  the  bath,"  he  said,  as  they  reached  the 
white-tiled  room  on  the  second  floor.  "  Now  go  in,  and 
be  careful  to  take  off  your  blouse  without  getting  it 
bloody.  If  we  are  going  to  work  this  thing  we  must 
work  it  right.  Perhaps  you'd  better  strip  and  bathe 
all  over.  It  will  make  you  feel  good  anyway,  after 
that  fierce  round  of  yours.  Let  me  fill  the  tub." 

"  I  think  I'd  better,  maybe,"  acquiesced  Lionel. 

"Well,  be  careful,"  Gait  warned  him,  as  he  turned  on 
the  two  streams  of  water  and  tested  the  blending  tem 
perature. 

"I  really  can't  unbutton  this  collar  behind,"  Lionel 
said,  with  a  touch  of  manly  shame  over  the  confession. 
"  My  mother  always  does  it.  She  has  never  let  me 
learn.  I  am  big  enough,  gracious  knows!" 

"Wait,  let  me  undress  you!"  the  father  said,  as  he 
hastily  dried  his  hands. 

"  I  wish  you  would,  if  you'll  be  so  kind,"  Lionel  said, 
in  a  tone  of  reliance,  which  somehow  reached  an  hitherto 

237 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

untouched  fount  of  feeling  in  the  breast  of  his  com 
panion. 

As  the  child  stood  before  him,  Gait,  with  throbbing 
pulse  and  reverent  fingers,  found  himself  doing  the 
duties  of  a  mother  to  his  offspring.  The  flowing  neck 
tie  and  collar  were  removed ;  next  the  blouse  and  under- 
body.  Then  a  vision  of  inexplicable  and  awe-inspiring 
beauty  greeted  the  senses  of  the  beholder,  as  the  symetri- 
cal  form,  a  veritable  poem  in  flesh  and  blood,  stood 
bared  to  his  sight.  He  laid  the  still  unsoiled  garments 
on  a  chair,  and  lifted  the  boy  in  his  arms  to  put  him  into 
the  water.  The  warm,  smooth  cheek  touched  his  own; 
a  tingling  throb  of  paternity — of  starving,  yearning 
fatherhood — shot  through  him  as  he  held  the  boy  across 
his  arms  like  a  baby  and  lowered  him  slowly  to  the  water. 

"Look  out,  I'll  duck  you!"  he  said,  jestingly,  and  the 
boy  replied  with  a  ringing  laugh  which  held  no  hint  of  fear. 

In  the  water  the  child  lay  with  his  face  smilingly  up 
turned. 

"Ugh!"  he  exclaimed,  "it  feels  good.  This  tub  is 
big  enough  to  swim  in — a  little  bit,  anyway.  Will  you 
show  me  how  to  swim  some  day?" 

"Yes,  my  son — yes,   Lionel,  some  day,  perhaps." 

"  In  deep  water  —  in  a  really-really  stream  that  fish 
swim  in?" 

"Yes,  Lionel." 

"Oh,  that  would  be  so  nice!  Couldn't  we  catch  fish, 
too?" 

"I  think  so — yes,  of  course,  some  day,  perhaps." 

But  would  those  delights,  conceived  for  the  first  time 
to-day,  ever  be  realized?  Gait  asked  himself,  as  keen 
pangs  from  some  unknown  source  darted  through  him. 
Sick  unto  death  of  the  vapid  adulation  of  narrow  men  and 
women,  would  he  ever  experience  the  transcendental  joy 
of  intimate  and  daily  companionship  with  this  human 
wonder,  such  as  other  fathers  enjoyed  with  their  sons? 

238 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

No,  the  question  was  already  answered.  The  bliss — the 
queer,  Heaven-tending  bliss  of  the  present  moment — 
was  merely  stolen.  Was  it  likely  that  any  son  at  all 
would  ever  come  to  him — a  son  which  he  could  father  in 
the  broadest,  holiest  sense?  No;  and  he  started  and 
fell  to  quivering  superstitiously.  Even  if  he  were  mar 
ried  and  another  son  was  given  to  him  in  lawful  wedlock, 
could  he  dare — in  the  face  of  Infinite  Justice — dare  to 
put  that  child  forward,  acknowledge  that  child  as  his 
own,  while  deserting,  ignoring,  denying  Lionel? 

"Great  God!"  his  quaking  soul  cried  out  in  sheer  an 
guish.  "  Lionel,  my  son;  my  boy,  made  in  the  image  of 
her  and  me,  he  who  trusts  and  so  innocently  loves  me! 
And  yet  it  must  be.  Fate  has  ordained  it.  I  have  his 
faith  and  love  now,  but  later  he  may  turn  on  me  like  an 
avenging  angel." 

"  My  mother  soaps  me  all  over  before  I  get  out.  Must 
I  do  it?"  the  child  asked,  as  his  merry,  haunting  eyes 
smiled  up  through  their  long,  wet  lashes. 

"It  won't  be  necessary  this  time,"  Gait  said.  "The 
blood  is  entirely  washed  off.  Get  out  and  let  me  dry 
you  with  this  big  towel." 

"  Ugh !  it  is  cold."  The  boy  shuddered,  as  he  stood  out 
on  the  rug  and  allowed  himself  to  be  enveloped  from 
head  to  foot  in  the  big  Turkish  towel.  He  was  soon 
dry,  and  as  he  stood,  his  soft  skin  flushed  as  delicately 
pink  as  the  inside  of  a  sea-shell,  Gait,  making  many  an 
awkward  mistake,  proceeded  to  dress  him. 

"Now  let  me  brush  your  hair;  at  least,  I  know  how 
to  do  that,  young  man,"  the  father  said,  "but  I  think 
it  ought  to  be  wet  more." 

"Oh  no;  it  is  too  wet  now!"  the  child  declared,  as 
he  shook  his  locks,  the  ends  of  which  had  been  under 
water.  "My  mother  combs  it  dry." 

"There,  how  will  that  do,  Miss  Particular?"  Gait  asked 
as  he  led  the  child  to  a  large  mirror. 

239 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"I  don't  know;  it  looks  funny,  somehow" — Lionel 
made  a  grimace  at  his  image  in  the  glass — "but  it  will 
have  to  do.  I'd  better  hurry  home.  They  might  miss 
me,  and  find  out  about  the  fight.  I  like  you  for  that." 

"For  what?"  Gait  followed  him  to  the  door,  and  as 
they  started  across  the  grass  toward  the  cottage  he  felt 
Lionel  timidly  reaching  out  for  his  hand.  He  had  evi 
dently  not  heard  Gait's  half-whispered  question. 

"What  was  it  you  said  you  liked  me  for?"  his  father 
repeated,  taking  the  little  hand  and  holding  it  tenderly. 

"Oh,  because  you  wanted  me  to  whip  him.  He's 
rich  and  has  everything,  and  Granny  says  his  father  is 
a  great  man.  I  suppose  if  you  liked  Grover  the  best 
you  would  have  told  him  how  to  fight." 

"You  are  smaller  than  he,"  Gait  said,  lamely. 

"Then  it  wasn't  because  you  like  me?"  Gait  felt 
the  little  hand  stiffen,  as  if  some  impulse  of  dormant 
confidence  in  the  tiny  palm  had  forsaken  it. 

"Yes,  it  was  because  I  like  you,"  Gait  said,  warmly, 
and,  obeying  a  desire  he  refused  to  combat,  he  raised 
the  boy  in  his  arms  and  held  him  tight  against  his 
breast.  "  If  he  had  hurt  you,  Lionel,  I  don't  know  what 
I  should  have  done." 

"Then  I'm  glad  I  made  him  bellow,"  the  boy  said, 
with  a  little  laugh,  as  he  got  down  to  the  ground.  "  Some 
thing  had  to  be  done,  you  know,  after  he  said  that  about 
my  mother." 

Yes,  something  had  to  be  done,  Kenneth  Gait  told 
his  tortured  inner  self,  as  he  stood  and  watched  the  boy 
trip  lightly  homeward  —  some  one  had  to  fight  and 
struggle  and  smart  as  a  consequence  of  the  wrong 
that  had  been  done,  and  the  duty  had  fallen  on  a  little 
child.  Through  the  slow,  weary  years  of  perhaps  a 
long  life  the  fight  just  beginning  would  go  on,  and  the 
chief  cause  of  it  must  shirk  it  all.  Gait  groaned,  and 
clinched  his  hands,  and  turned  back  to  his  desolate 

240 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

home.  He  had  contended  that  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  spirit,  and  yet  this  remorse  raging  like  a  tempest 
within  him  certainly  had  naught  to  do  with  matter. 
He  had  argued  that  man,  born  of  the  flesh,  could  gratify 
all  animal  desires  and  suffer  no  ill  effects  except  those 
excited  by  physical  fear;  but  there  was  nothing  to  fear 
in  this  case.  Dora's  lips  were  sealed;  no  one  else  knew 
the  truth,  or  ever  would  know,  and  yet  the  very  skies 
above  seemed  turning  to  adamant  and  closing  in  around 
him. 


CHAPTER    XII 

'ORA  BARRY  sat  at  her  easel  absorbed 
in  the  painting  of  a  picture,  though  the 
afternoon    light    was    fading    from    her 
canvas  in  a  way  that  made  the  work 
difficult,  when  her  mother  came  to  the 
door  and  glanced  in. 
"I  have  kept  a  lookout  for  fully  an  hour,"  she  an 
nounced,  "but  I  haven't  once  seen  Lionel.     I  am  get 
ting  old  and  silly,  I  suppose,  but  I  can't  keep  from 
worrying." 

Dora  got  up  quickly,  her  face  full  of  alarm,  and  the 
two  went  to  the  window  of  the  dining-room  and  stood 
looking  out  for  a  moment. 

"There!  Isn't  that — •  I  see  him!"  Mrs.  Barry  cried 
out  in  relief.  "Why,  he  is  with  Kenneth  Gait!  He 
has  him  in  his  arms.  There! — don't  you  see? — just 
beyond  the  row  of  cedars.  Thank  Heaven !  we  had  our 
scare  for  nothing." 

But  Dora,  wide-eyed  and  astonished,  was  silent;  her 
face  was  very  grave.  Her  mother  ran  eagerly  to  the 
door  to  meet  the  child,  but  Dora  remained  as  if  rooted 
to  the  spot,  her  gaze  fixed  on  the  receding  form  of  Gait. 
"Why  did  he  have  him?"  she  whispered  to  herself. 
"  What  can  it  mean  ?  He  was  treating  him  kindly,  and 
gently,  too.  I  could  see  it  in  his  face.  It  was  glowing 
as  it  used  to  glow  when  he  was  true  to  himself  and  to 
me.  It  looked  like  Lionel's  arm  was  round  his  neck. 
What  can  it  mean?" 

242 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

When  the  child  had  come  in,  Dora  sat  down  and 
drew  him  into  her  lap  and  held  him  fondly  to  her 
breast.  "Mother  was  frightened,"  she  said,  cooingly, 
her  lips  on  his  brow.  "She  missed  her  little  boy,  and 
was  afraid  something  had  happened  to  him." 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right,  mother,"  Lionel  said.  "I  can 
take  care  of  myself;  you  must  never  be  afraid." 

"But  how  did  you  happen  to  be  with  Mr.  Gait?" 
Mrs.  Barry  asked.  "I  didn't  know  you  knew  him." 

"Why,  why—  '  but  Lionel  went  no  further.  He  had 
never  lied,  and  the  plan  his  sense  of  honor  had  laid  for 
him  was  difficult  to  execute.  His  grandmother  repeated 
her  question  in  more  positive  tones,  but,  with  eyes 
downcast,  he  refused  to  answer. 

"Let  him  alone,  mother,"  Dora  said,  her  face  rigid. 
"It  doesn't  make  any  difference." 

"It  doesn't,  eh?"  the  old  woman  exclaimed,  in  sur 
prise.  "  Well,  I  think  you  both  are  acting  queerly. 
There  is  no  reason  why  Lionel  should  not  tell  us  when 
and  how  he  met  Mr.  Gait.  I  can  see  by  his  face  that  he 
is  keeping  something  back." 

But  Dora  was  holding  the  child's  head  against  her 
throbbing  breast,  and  she  threw  an  almost  commanding 
glance  at  her  mother. 

"  Let  him  alone  now,"  she  said,  firmly,  and  with  such 
a  sharp  tone  of  finality  that  her  mother  stared  at  her  in 
surprise  and  left  the  room. 

That  evening  Dora  prepared  the  child  for  bed.  As  she 
undressed  him  she  scanned  each  piece  of  his  clothing 
most  carefully.  She  found  a  green  smudge  made  from 
strong  pressure  against  the  turf  in  a  most  unexpected 
place,  high  up  on  the  child's  back;  she  discovered  the 
imprint  of  soiled  fingers  on  the  broad  white  collar,  and 
remarked  the  inconsistency  of  this  with  Lionel's  im 
maculately  clean  hands;  the  necktie  had  been  loose  and 
awkwardly  retied;  and,  most  conspicuous  of  all,  was 

243 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

the  uncouth  way  the  golden  hair  was  dressed.  She 
noted  all  these  things  without  comment ;  but  when  the 
white  bed-covers  were  turned  down,  and  Lionel  had  said 
his  prayers  and  crawled  in,  Dora  lowered  the  lamp  and 
reclined  beside  him.  Outwardly  she  was  calm.  To  the 
child's  observation,  no  new  thing  had  happened  in  her 
even  life,  and  yet  her  whole  being  was  aflame,  her  soul 
panting  in  suspense. 

"  Mother's  little  boy  never  has  told  her  a  story  in  all 
his  life,"  she  began,  as  soothingly  as  if  she  were  croon 
ing  him  to  sleep.  "  Isn't  that  nice  ?  Some  little  boys 
tell  fibs  to  their  mothers,  but  my  boy  has  always  told 
the  truth,  and  mother  is  so  glad." 

Lionel  lay  still.  She  kissed  him  softly  and  waited. 
At  any  other  time  his  little  arms  and  lips  would  have 
responded,  and  she  marked  well  the  change  to-night. 
Lionel  did  not  move  or  speak,  but  simply  lay  with  his 
old-young  gaze  gravely  fixed  on  the  ceiling  where  the 
lamp-chimney  had  focussed  a  ring  of  light. 

"You  would  tell  your  mother  everything  that  ever 
happened  to  you,  wouldn't  you,  darling?"  she  said,  shyly 
pressing  her  cheek  against  his.  She  felt  him  nod  im 
pulsively,  but  second  thought  seemed  to  seal  his  lips. 
His  was  a  tender  age  at  which  to  begin  the  defence  of  a 
wronged  parent  by  pretext  and  concealment,  but  the 
burden  was  on  his  shoulders,  and  little  Lionel  was 
manfully  doing  his  best. 

"There  are  two  kinds  of  stories,  and  they  are  both 
bad,"  Dora  went  on,  desperate  over  the  delay  of  the 
divulgence  which  she  thought  could  mean  so  little  to 
the  child  and  yet  so  very  much  to  her.  "It  is  bad  to 
tell  a  lie,  and  it  is  bad  to  keep  back  anything  at  all  from 
your  mother,  because  she  is  more  to  you  than  all  the  rest 
of  the  world.  She  is  your  mother;  she  works  for  you; 
she  loves  you ;  she  would  die  for  you ;  and  if  anybody — 
no  matter  who  it  is — were  to  want  you  to  keep  a  se- 

244 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

cret  from  her,  it  would  be  wrong — very,  very  wrong.  It 
would  make  your  mother  very  unhappy;  it  would  make 
her  cry  long  after  you  were  asleep  to  know  that  her  little 
son  was  keeping  anything  from  her." 

She  felt  the  little  white-robed  figure  quiver.  He 
raised  himself  on  his  elbow  and  slowly  sat  up ;  his  young 
face,  in  the  dim  light,  was  full  of  struggle. 

"Is  that  so,  mother?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  darling,"  she  answered.  "There  can  be  no  se 
crets  at  all  between  a  mother  and  her  boy.  She  must 
tell  him  everything,  and  he  must  not  keep  a  thing  back 
from  her.  How  did  you  happen  to  meet — Mr.  Gait  this 
.afternoon?" 

"That's  what  you  want  to  know?" 

"Yes,  dear — that's  all.  Surely,  there  can  be  no  rea 
son  why  your  own  dear  mother  should  not  know  a  little 
thing  like  that.  Surely  he — Mr.  Gait — couldn't  have 
told  you  not  to  tell  me?" 

The  child  was  still  for  a  moment.  He  folded  his  little 
arms  over  his  knee,  clinched  his  hands,  and  sat  avoid 
ing  her  insistent  eyes. 

"  Wait!"  he  said,  finally.     "  I  want  to  go  to  Granny." 

"  You  want  to  go  to  Granny,  and  leave  your  mother?" 
she  asked,  deeply  perplexed. 

"Just  a  minute,"  he  said,  as  he  crawled  over  her  and 
got  down  on  the  floor.  "  I'll  be  back.  I'll  be  right  back, 
mother,  dear." 

"  It  is  something  you  will  tell  her,  but  can't  tell 
me!"  Dora  cried  out,  in  half-assumed  reproach.  "Why. 
Lionel?" 

"I'll  be  back,"  he  said,  evasively.  "There  is  no 
hurry."  And  she  heard  the  patter  of  his  bare  feet  along 
the  corridor  to  his  grandmother's  room. 

Mrs.  Barry  always  retired  early,  and  she  was  now  in 
her  bed,  but  very  wide  awake.  Something  in  the  inci 
dent  had  set  her  to  thinking  on  new  lines.  "  Can  it  be  ? 

245 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Can  it  be?"  she  kept  asking  herself,  in  great  excite 
ment.     "  Why  didn't  I  think  of  it  ?" 

"Granny!"  she  heard  Lionel  call  out  from  the  dark 
doorway. 

"  Yes,  dear,  what  is  it  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  want  to  come  to  your  bed  a  minute — just  a  min 
ute." 

"  All  right,  come  on,  darling ;  don't  stumble  over  any 
thing." 

She  heard  him  groping  through  the  dark,  and  then  felt 
his  little  hands  on  her  wrinkled  face. 

"Granny,"  he  said,  a  tremor  in  his  voice,  "you  told 
me  if  anybody  ever  said  anything  mean  about  my  mother, 
that  I  must  not  let  her  know  about  it — never  at  all." 

"Yes,  darling,  that  would  be  a  nice,  brave  little  man, 
for  you  wouldn't  want  to  make  her  sad,  would  you?" 

"  Well,  I  had  a  terrible  fight  with  Grover  Weston  over 
in  Mr.  Gait's  yard.  Grover  said  a  nasty,  mean  thing 
about  her.  You  told  me  not  to  let  her  know  anything 
like  that,  and  so  did  Mr.  Gait,  but  mamma  is  begging 
me  so  hard." 

"Oh!"  The  old  woman  lifted  the  boy  over  her  into 
the  bed,  and  put  her  arms  about  him  tenderly.  "  You 
can  tell  Granny  about  it,  and  then  if  she  thinks  best 
perhaps  you  may  tell  your  mother." 

He  complied,  and  the  wondering  old  woman,  as  she 
lay  with  the  child  in  her  arms,  heard  the  whole  beautiful 
story  in  every  detail,  even  to  Gait's  display  of  affection, 
and  as  she  listened  cold  tears  welled  up  in  her  old  eyes 
and  trickled  down  the  furrows  of  her  cheeks  to  her  pil 
low.  When  it  was  over,  she  led  the  child  back  to  his 
mother. 

"Don't  ask  him  any  more  about  it.  Wait,"  she  said, 
in  an  undertone,  and  with  a  significant  gesture  in  the 
direction  of  her  room.  "  Don't  spoil  a  beautiful  thing. 
God  bless  him!  he  is  right — young  as  he  is,  he  is  right! 

246 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

The  very  angels  of  heaven  are  closing  his  sweet  lips 
to-night.     Don't  bother  him." 

When  Lionel  was  asleep  Dora  anxiously  crept  into  her 
mother's  room.  A  lamp  was  now  burning  on  a  table, 
but  Dora  blew  it  out,  and  went  and  sat  on  the  edge  of 
her  mother's  bed. 

"I  know  your  secret  now,"  Mrs.  Barry  faltered,  with 
a  suppressed  sob  in  her  pillow.  "  All  these  years  I  have 
wondered  over  your  great  trouble,  and  why  you  were 
not  more  open  with  me  about  it,  but  Lionel  has  made  it 
clear.  I  understand  now." 

"Did  Kenneth  Gait  tell  my  child  that — "  Dora  cried 
out,  in  a  rasping  undertone.  "Did  he  dare  to — " 

"No,  no,  not  that!"  the  old  woman  corrected.  "He 
simply  betrayed  himself  in  his  conduct  toward  the  boy. 
Listen !  Lionel  need  never  suspect  that  you  know  what 
he  did,  but  you  must  be  told  the  truth.  It  is  too  beau 
tiful  for  you  to  miss." 

She  told  the  whole  story  as  it  had  come  from  the 
child's  lips,  together  with  other  things  she  had  culled  as 
to  happenings  between  him  and  his  father  on  former 
occasions. 

"Let  them  both  alone,"  she  added,  fervently,  as  she 
concluded.  "  The  little  fellow,  nameless  and  cast  out  as 
he  is,  has  of  himself  won  the  love  God  gave  him  the  right 
to.  It  is  his.  Let  him  keep  it,  and  I  pray  Heaven  that 
it  may  drag  that  haughty  spirit  down  into  the  mire  of 
repentance.  I've  thought  it  all  over.  I  remember  the 
date  well.  I  know  now  why  he  deserted  you;  he  couldn't 
face  public  exposure  just  at  that  particular  time.  His 
temptation  was  great,  and  he  fell.  I  believe  he  loved 
you  then,  and  that  he  does  yet." 

"Does  yet!"  Dora  sneered,  and  she  put  a  protesting 
hand  out  to  her  mother's  as  it  lay  on  the  coverlet. 
"  Don't  say  that.  He  couldn't  now  —  after  all  this 
time." 

17  247 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  But  he  does,  he  does — a  thousand  times  more  than 
he  did,  too,"  the  old  woman  insisted.  "He  hasn't 
married;  he  is  leading  a  lonely,  morbid  life.  He  -is 
longing  for  you — though  he  may  still  dread  public 
opinion — and  is  adoring  the  child.  He  may  resist 
longer,  but  in  the  end  he  will  succumb  and  crawl  to 
your  feet  and  beg  for  forgiveness.  Watch  my  proph 
ecy.  He'll  do  it!— he'll  do  it!" 

"You  don't  know,  mother,"  Dora  sighed,  and  she 
stood  up  and  moved  away  in  the  darkness.  "  You 
don't  know." 

Dora  went  back  to  her  room  and  stood  looking  down 
at  her  sleeping  child.  Suddenly  her  eyes  filled  and  her 
breast  heaved  high. 

"Mother's  little  champion!"  she  cried,  and  she  knelt 
down  by  the  bed,  covered  her  face,  and  wept. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

>HE  July  sun  beat  fiercely  on  the  tin 
and  slate  roofs  of  the  houses  forming 
the  square  of  Stafford.  It  was  noon, 
and  business  was  at  a  standstill.  The 
clerks  and  typewriters  in  Walton's  bank 

sat    yawning    and    fanning    themselves 

under  the  intense  heat.  The  only  occupied  individual 
in  the  building  was  the  banker  himself,  who  was  crouched 
over  his  desk  in  his  little  office  making  calculations  on  a 
pad  of  paper  with  a  pencil.  Toby  Lassiter  was  at  the 
window  of  the  receiving-teller  when  an  old  man  came 
in  at  the  folding-screen  door  and  asked  if  he  might  see 
Mr.  Walton  personally.  It  was  Stephen  Whipple,  and 
he  carried  a  travelling-bag  in  his  hand;  he  was  covered 
with  dust,  and  marked  in  the  creases  of  his  face  by  drifts 
of  fine  cinders. 

"  I'll  see,  sir,  if  you'll  wait  a  minute,"  Toby  answered, 
with  his  best  window-manners ;  then  he  went  to  his  em 
ployer,  and  returned  to  pilot  the  caller  back  to  the 
office. 

"  Stranded  on  a  trip  and  wants  a  check  cashed  without 
identification,"  was  Toby's  mental  comment  as  he  led 
the  way.  "Well,  he's  come  to  the  wrong  man,  as  he 
will  mighty  soon  find  out." 

Whipple  gave  a  searching  glance  at  the  man  who 
was  rising  from  the  desk  with  impatiently  lifted  brows. 
He  put  his  bag  down  at  his  feet,  but  failed  to  extend 
his  hand,  as  Walton  evidently  expected  him  to  do. 

249 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Take  a  seat,  sir,  take  a  seat,"  and  the  banker  mo 
tioned  to  a  chair  near  the  desk. 

"Thanks."  The  Westerner  kicked  his  bag  along 
toward  the  chair,  and  sat  down  rather  clumsily.  He 
took  out  an  enormous  handkerchief,  also  considerably 
begrimed,  and  mopped  his  perspiring  face. 

"You've  got  a  hot  town,  sir,"  Whipple  said,  intro- 
ductively. 

"Some  say  so,  and  some  say  not,"  Walton  replied, 
succinctly.  "Well,  sir,"  he  continued,  "is  there  any 
thing  I  can  do  for  you  ?  The  reason  I  make  so  bold  as 
to  ask  is  because  my  clerk  said  you  wanted  to  see  me 
personally." 

"  Yes,  it  is  of  a  sort  of  personal  nature ;  at  least,  I  reck 
on,  you  might  call  it  that,"  and  the  merchant  reached 
down  and  caught  the  handle  of  his  bag  for  no  obvious 
reason  than  that  he  wanted  to  move  it  to  a  point  equi 
distant  between  his  two  splaying  feet.  Then  he  looked 
up,  and  there  was  a  decided  flush  of  embarrassment  in 
his  face,  which  extended  down  to  the  soiled  collar  on 
his  pudgy  neck.  The  banker,  ever  quick  at  the  reading 
of  countenances,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  some  sort 
of  unbusiness-like  request  in  regard  to  needed  funds  was 
forthcoming,  and  he  was  already  framing  his  refusal. 

"Well,  sir — well,  sir?"  he  said. 

"  The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  it  is  of  such  a  personal 
nature  that  it  is  purty  hard  to  know  how  to  get  started 
at  it,"  Whipple  finally  got  out.  "Of  course,  I  am  a 
stranger  to  you,  and  I've  come,  too,  without  any  letters 
of  introduction  or  papers  of  identification,  and — is  there 
any  danger  of  anybody  listening?" 

"None  whatever — none  on  earth!"  Walton  sniffed, 
impatiently.  "You  can  talk  at  the  top  of  your  voice 
if  you  want  to;  the  walls  are  thick;  besides,  I  don't  have 
secrets,  and  I  don't  know  as  I  am  in  the  market  for  any." 

"No,  of  course  not,  Mr.  Walton."  The  flush  in  the 

250 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

visitor's  face  was  dying  out  and  giving  place  to  an  ex 
pression  of  rather  anxious  rigidity.  "Well,  I  am  glad 
we  won't  be  overheard,  at  any  rate,  for  I  want  to  talk 
to  you  in  behalf  of  your  son." 

"Oh,  that's  it,  huh?  I  see!  I  see!"  And  Walton 
swept  the  form  before  him  with  eyes  in  which  the  lights 
of  anger  were  slowly  but  positively  kindling.  "  It  is 
about  him,  is  it?  Well,  wait  till  I  send  this  letter  to  the 
mail.  I'll  be  back,  sir.  I'll  be  back." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Walton.     There's  no  hurry." 

With  the  letter  in  his  hand  the  banker  rose  as  if  from 
the  sheer  heat  of  the  growing  anger  within  him  and 
went  out.  Standing  in  the  door  of  the  main  counting- 
room  he  caught  Lassiter's  eye  and  signalled  him  to  ap 
proach.  Giving  him  the  letter,  Walton  said :  "  Mail  that, 
and  then  come  back  and  keep  a  peeled  eye  on  that  fat 
chap  at  my  desk.  Do  you  remember  what  I  said  when 
that  three  thousand  dollars  came  from  nowhere  in  par 
ticular  by  express  awhile  back,  along  with  the  mealy- 
mouthed  yarn  from  Fred  about  changing  his  ways,  and 
all  that  gush?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  think  so,"  answered  the  startled  Toby. 
"  You  said  you  thought — " 

"  That  it  was  a  deep-laid  plan  amongst  him  and  some 
other  sharpers  to  hoodwink  me;  and  I  told  you,  Toby, 
that  I'd  be  willing  to  bet  money  that  it  wouldn't  be 
many  days  before  somebody  would  hike  along  this  way 
to  talk  it  over  —  some  go-between,  you  understand. 
Well,  he's  in  there  now,  setting  humped  over  his  satchel 
like  a  spider  watching  a  fly.  He  thinks  I'm  the  fly.  I 
want  to  know  what  he's  got  to  say.  I  want  to  see  his 
hand,  you  know,  and  I  come  out  here  to  take  a  whiff  of 
air  and  steady  myself  so  I  wouldn't  blurt  out  what  I 
thought  too  quick  and  drive  him  away.  Keep  your 
eye  on  him  after  he  leaves  me,  Toby,  and  see  which 
way  he  goes.  He  looks  to  me  like  some  shyster  lawyer 

251 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

who  has  taken  up  the  matter  and  thinks  he  is  smart 
enough  to  fool  me.  Somebody  has  invested  three  thou 
sand  in  this  scheme,  and  the  deal  is  to  be  clinched  this 
morning.  Huh!  I'll  sorter  tote  'im  along,  Toby,  and 
see  if  I  can  get  onto  his  game,"  and,  with  a  sly  and  yet 
nervous  wink,  Walton  turned  away. 

"Yes,  sir;  all  right  now,  sir,"  he  said,  breezily,  as  he 
returned  to  his  desk  and  lowered  himself  into  his  chair. 
"We've  got  this  room  all  to  ourselves,  and  are  as  snug 
as  a  bug  in  a  rug,  as  the  fellow  said.  Now,  fire  ahead." 

"Of  course,  it  must  be  a  sort  o'  disagreeable  subject 
for  you  to  talk  about,"  Whipple  began,  awkwardly,  "and 
I'll  admit  to  you,  Mr.  Walton,  that  I  thought  over  it  a 
powerful  long  time  before  I  finally  made  up  my  mind 
to  come." 

"  Oh  yes,  of  course,"  Walton  said,  pulling  his  whiskers 
with  his  long  hand — "of  course,  you  naturally  would." 

"Especially  as  Fred  had  no  idea  of  what  I  had  in 
view,"  the  Westerner  said.  "You  see,  I  had  to  act 
wholly  on  my  own  responsibility." 

"  Yes,  I  see — I  see,  sir."  It  was  only  by  an  effort  that 
Walton  kept  a  sarcastic  ring  of  irritation  out  of  his  voice, 
and  he  stroked  into  the  roots  of  his  beard  a  smile  of  con 
tempt  at  such  puerile  attempts  to  deceive. 

"And  that's  what  makes  the  whole  thing  so  hard  on 
me,"  the  merchant  went  on.  "You  see,  I  took  it  on 
myself  to  act  for  Fred  in,  I  might  say,  actual  opposition 
to  his  wishes  and  judgment." 

Whipple  then  proceeded  to  give  a  full  and  accurate 
account  of  his  first  introduction  to  Fred  and  all  that  had 
happened  to  him  since,  withholding  only  his  own  name 
and  the  name  of  the  town  he  was  from.  And  while  he 
talked,  pausing  to  wipe  his  wet  brow  at  times,  or  to 
clear  his  shaky  voice,  the  banker  watched  him  as  a  cat 
might  a  mouse.  He  held  a  pencil  in  his  long,  steady 
fingers,  and  kept  the  point  of  it  on  a  pad  of  paper,  raising 

252 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

his  shrewd  glance  and  lowering  it  as  suited  his  fancy. 
Had  he  been  an  artist,  old  Simon  might  have  sketched 
what  to  his  understanding  was  the  most  subtly  design 
ing  face  he  had  ever  seen.  Here  was  a  man,  he  told 
himself,  who  resorted  even  to  the  emotional  methods  of 
a  ranting  revivalist  to  gain  his  nefarious  aims.  It  was 
a  wonderful  conception,  but  it  wofully  missed  its  mark, 
for  it  was  being  applied  to  a  man  who  had  no  emotions. 
It  was  being  applied  to  a  man,  too,  who  was  as  eagerly 
on  the  lookout  for  new  tricks  as  a  biologist  for  a  new 
species  of  insect.  What  a  weakling  the  fellow  was,  for 
a  man  of  that  age,  and  what  fun  it  would  be  to  suddenly 
undeceive  him — let  him  know  the  manner  of  man  he 
was  attempting,  in  such  a  shallow  way,  to  bunco! 

"Yes,  I  decided  not  to  wait  longer,"  Whipple  con 
cluded,  with  a  sigh.  "  I  didn't  intend  to  act  till  the  re 
maining  three  thousand  was  paid;  but,  as  I  say,  I — 

"  It  is  only  two,  according  to  my  calculations."  Wal 
ton  thought  he  had  tripped  him  up,  and  smiled  know 
ingly. 

"  Fred  said  he  felt  that  another  thousand,  at  least, 
was  due  as  interest  at  the  rate  you  usually  get." 

"  Oh,  I  see;  he's  certainly  liberal."  Walton  smiled  at 
his  joke,  and  bent  his  head  over  his  pad  to  hide  it. 

"As  I  say,"  the  merchant  resumed,  "I  intended  to 
wait  till  the  debt  was  entirely  paid,  but  things  took  a 
sudden  turn  that  I  didn't  expect.  I  offered  to  ad 
vance  the  money  to  Fred,  but  he  wouldn't  take  it." 

"Oh,  he  wouldn't  take  it!"  Walton  said,  with  a  hur 
ried  regret  that  Toby  was  not  present  to  enjoy  the  feast 
of  stupidity  being  spread  before  him.  "  I  see;  he  didn't 
want  it.  That's  a  little  bit  like  him."  Simon's  amuse 
ment  showed  itself  now  in  his  voice  rather  than  in  the 
visage  which  he  managed  to  keep  unruffled.  "  But  you 
say  things  had  sorter  taken  a  twist  around  ?" 

"Yes;  he  was  brave  enough,  and  bearing  up  mighty 

253 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

well  till  me  and  him  took  a  trip,  as  much  for  pleasure 
as  anything  else,  to  New  York,  and  we  passed  through 
this  very  town,  and — " 

"So  you  passed  through  here?"  Walton  interrupted, 
and  then  to  himself  he  added:  "  I  knew  it.  I  knew  Fred 
was  hanging  about  Atlanta  and  sending  money  to  that 
woman.  Huh,  his  fat  agent  is  certainly  giving  the  snap 
away!" 

"  Yes,  we  passed  through  here  one  night,  and,  as  our 
train  was  delayed  below  town  by  a  wreck  ahead  of  us, 
Fred  got  out  and  walked  around.  He  was  gone  till 
after  midnight,  and  when  he  came  back  to  the  Pullman 
where  I  was  I  noticed  that  he  was  powerfully  upset,  and 
begun  to  suspect  that  maybe  this  was  his  old  home.  He 
started  to  tell  me  about  it  then,  but  I  stopped  him,  and 
it  was  not  till  we  had  been  to  New  York  and  got  back 
home  that  he  finally  told  me  your  name  and  where  you 
lived.  As  I  said,  he  has  not  been  the  same  since  then, 
and,  to  be  honest  with  you,  Mr.  Walton,  I  don't  know 
of  anything  in  the  world  that  will  restore  his  peace  of 
mind,  except — " 

"Except  having  me  send  for  him,"  Simon  suddenly 
let  himself  go,  "and  kill  the  fatted  bull-yearling,  and 
put  a  dinky-dinky  cap  on  his  brow,  and  give  him  a  key 
to  the  vault,  and  start  in,  hit  or  miss,  exactly  where  me 
and  him  left  off!" 

"You  are  hard  on  him,  Mr.  Walton,"  Whipple  gasped, 
fairly  staggered  by  the  unexpected  retort — "  much  harder, 
I  must  say,  than  I  had  hoped  to  find  you.  He  de 
clared  that  you  wasn't  the  sort  that  would  forgive  easily, 
but,  having  been  a  father  once  myself,  I  didn't  believe 
you  would,  after  hearing  about  your  boy's  life  since  he 
left  you,  refuse  to — " 

"See  here!"  Walton  interrupted,  laying  down  his  pen 
cil  and  staring  at  the  visitor  from  eyes  which  fairly 
snapped  with  blended  triumph  and  rage,  "you've  held 

254 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

the  floor  long  enough ;  now  step  aside  and  let  me  take  it. 
I  don't  know  as  I  ever  had  the  luck  to  run  across  just 
such  a  specimen  as  you  are.  You've  evidently  had 
very  little  to  do  with  business  men.  You  seem  to  have 
as  little  common  sense  as  a  mountain  school-teacher  or 
a  young  preacher  on  his  first  circuit.  Here  you  come 
with  a  long,  roundabout,  hatched-up  tale  that  is  so  thin 
and  full  of  holes  that  a  body  could  throw  a  straw  hat 
through  it.  I'd  have  you  understand  that  this  here 
house  is  a  bank.  My  own  granddaddy  would  have  to  be 
identified,  if  he  was  alive,  before  he  could  cash  a  check 
at  that  front  window,  and  yet  here  you  come — pitapat, 
pitapat,  as  unconcerned  as  a  house-cat  looking  for  a 
place  to  lie  down — back  into  my  private  quarters,  and 
propose  something  that  may,  or  may  not,  involve  every 
dollar  I  own  on  the  top-side  of  the  earth.  You  do  all 
that  without  even  taking  the  trouble  to  hint  at  who 
you  are  or  where  you  hail  from,  and — " 

"I'm  not  afraid  to  give  you  my  name!"  the  mer 
chant  gasped,  taken  wholly  off  his  guard  by  the  wither 
ing  attack.  "  It  is  Stephen  Whipple,  sir — W-h-i-double 
p-l-e,  Whipple!"  he  spelled,  and  he  leaned  forward  and 
pointed  a  stiff  finger  at  Walton's  pad.  "  Write  it  down. 
It  might  get  away  from  you." 

"Are  you  plumb  sure  it  ain't  Jenkins?''  the  banker 
grinned,  significantly. 

"No;  nor  Jones,  nor  Smith,  nor  Brown.  It's  Whip- 
pie — Stephen  Whipple.  Put  it  down  on  your  paper. 
Huh,  I'm  not  ashamed  of  it!" 

"All  right,  there  you  are,  in  big  letters."  Walton 
laughed,  still  victoriously,  as  he  pencilled  the  name  on 
the  pad.  "  Now,  one  other  formality,  please — your  post- 
office  address?" 

"  My  post  -  office — "  Whipple  hesitated.  His  as 
tounded  gaze  went  down;  he  was  all  of  a  quiver,  even 
to  his  bushy  eyebrows.  , 

255 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  Why,  it's  this  way — this  way — "  he  stammered,  and, 
raising  his  helpless  eyes  to  the  banker's  taunting  ones, 
he  came  to  a  dead  halt. 

"  I  think  it  must  be,"  Walton  chuckled.  "  In  fact,  it 
mighty  nigh  always  is  that  way  when  a  feller  gits  in  a 
corner.  But  surely,  out  of  all  the  places  in  the  United 
States,  you  could  think  of  some  town,  railroad  station, 
or  cross-roads  store.  A  word  as  uncommon  as  Whipple 
would  be  hard  for  me  to  think  of  in  a  pinch.  It  seemed 
to  come  handy  to  you.  Maybe  you've  used  it  before, 
or  had  some  dead  friend  by  that  name." 

"  You  are  not  fair,  sir!"  The  merchant  was  becoming 
exasperated  by  the  human  riddle  before  him.  "  I  told 
you  I  had  come  against  your  son's  knowledge  or  wish. 
He  has  kept  his  whereabouts  from  you  up  to  now,  and 
I  have  no  moral  right  to  let  it  out.  I  reckon  he  is  afraid 
you  will  hound  him  down  before  he  has  a  chance  to  pay 
back  what  he  owes  you.  The  Lord  knows,  he  has  plenty 
of  reason  for  being  cautious,  for,  if  I  am  any  judge,  you 
are  as  hard  and  unforgiving  as  a  stone  wall." 

"  I  haven't  seen  any  reason  to  forgive  him,  or  bother 
one  way  or  another  about  it,"  old  Simon  hurled  into  the 
flushed  face  before  him.  "  I  don't  see  any  difference  be 
tween  the  way  me  and  him  stand  now  and  six  years 
ago.  I  reckon  he  thinks  I'm  on  my  last  legs,  and  that 
the  three  thousand  he  got  by  some  hook  or  crook — or 
from  some  crook  —  would  be  well  invested  as  a  gum- 
stickum  plaster  to  put  over  my  eyes  before  I  am  put 
under  ground.  After  he  had  staked  that  much,  he 
thought  some  oily-tongued  friend  of  his  might  come  and 
reconnoitre  and  report  favorable.  Well,  you've  recon 
noitred,  Mr. — Mr.  Whipstock,  and  you  can  go  back  to 
Atlanta  and  tell  him  it  is  no  go  You  may  tell  him  I 
am  much  obliged  to  you  all — whoever  your  gang  is — for 
the  three  thousand  on  account.  I  may  be  making  a  mis 
take  now  by  shooting  off  my  mouth  so  quick,  for  if  I 

256 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

had  worked  my  cards  right  I  might  have  secured  an 
other  payment  by  dropping  a  tear  or  two;  but  it  is 
worth  something  to  say  what  I've1  aaid  in  the  way  I've 
said  it." 

"  So  you  don't  believe  what  I  have  told  you  ?"  Whipple 
gasped,  in  astonishment. 

"  Not  a  blessed  word — not  a  syllable,"  Walton  laughed, 
and  he  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair  in  sheer  enjoy 
ment  of  his  visitor's  discomfiture. 

"  You  don't  believe  he  is  in  my  employment — you 
don't  believe  he  earned  the  money  by  faithful  work 
which  he  sent  you — you  don't  believe — "  Whipple 
paused,  at  the  end  of  his  resources. 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  even  that,"  Walton  jested.  "  But 
I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  and  I  mean  it.  I  don't  intend  to 
have  you  coming  around  bothering  me  with  this  mat 
ter  any  more  at  all.  It  is  strictly  my  affair,  anyway. 
That  boy  was  a  bad  egg  when  he  was  here,  and  from 
the  looks  of  you  and  your  game  I  can't  see  that  he  has 
improved  a  dang  bit.  I  don't  say  I'd  arrest  him, 
neither;  half  the  debt  has  been  paid,  if  it  was  paid  for 
a  sneaking  reason,  and  he  can  rove  where  he  will.  He 
is  a  good  riddance  I  used  to  bother  about  what  might 
become  of  him,  but  I  don't  now." 

"Say,  look  me  in  the  eye!"  Whipple  suddenly  de 
manded,  and  with  a  fierceness  that  almost  sent  a  shock 
of  surprise  through  the  banker.  "  You've  not  believed 
what  I  have  told  you,  it  seems,  because  you  thought  I 
was  after  your  dirty  money.  Hard  cash  is  the  only 
thing  you  can  believe  in,  I  see,  and  so  I  am  going  to  use 
some  of  it  to  convince  you.  You  have  no  faith  in  your 
son — the  only  child  God  gave  you,  and  who  is  now 
honoring  your  gray  hairs  as  they  don't  deserve  to  be 
honored,  but,  thank  Heaven!  I  believe  in  him  from 
head  to  foot.  Before  I  left  Atlanta,  this  morning,  I  pre 
pared  myself  for  some  sort  of  emergency  like  this." 

257 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Whipple  took  out  a  long  envelope  and  threw  it  on  the 
desk  under  the  banker's  eyes.  "That  contains  three 
thousand  dollars — six  bills  of  five  hundred  each.  Take 
them!  Your  boy's  debt  is  paid  in  full.  I  may  have 
spoiled  his  chances  with  you  by  coming  here  against  his 
knowledge,  but  he  shall  not  lose  by  it.  If  I  live  to  get 
back  home  I  shall  provide  for  him  in  my  will.  I  may 
look  like  a  faker,  but  I  flatter  myself — from  all  I  have 
heard  of  you — that  I  am  worth  more  to-day  in  the 
financial  world  than  you  could  be  if  you  could  live  an 
other  twenty-five  years.  Good-day,  sir." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IAKING  up  his  satchel,  the  merchant 
strode  heavily  from  the  room.  Doubt 
ing  if  he  had  heard  aright,  Walton  tore 
open  the  envelope  and  took  out  the 
bills.  He  spread  them  on  the  desk;  he 
fumbled  them  with  quivering  fingers; 
he  took  out  a  big  magnifying  glass  and  essayed  to  ex 
amine  them  one  by  one,  but  his  excitement  and  perturba 
tion  rendered  it  impossible.  Dropping  his  hand  on  his 
call-bell,  he  gave  a  sharp  ring,  and  Toby  Lassiter  came 
in  quickly.  Brushing  the  money  toward  his  clerk,  Wal 
ton  said: 

"  See  if  they  are  counterfeit.     By  gum!" 
The  clerk  examined  them  with  the  glass  while  Walton 
watched  him  with  staring  eyes. 

"They  seem  to  me  to  be  all  right,  Mr.  Walton,"  Toby 
said,  wonderingly,  as  he  laid  the  bills  down. 

"I  reckon  they  are — my  Lord,  I  reckon  they  are!" 
the  banker  said,  in  his  throat.  "  Credit  it  on  my  pri 
vate  account,  Toby.  Credit  me  with  three — my  Lord,  I 
didn't  think — I  had  no  idea  that  the  dang  fellow — no, 
I'll  attend  to  the  money.  Toby,  you  run  out  and  see 
where  he  goes.  He  may  make  for  a  hotel,  or  he  may — 
but  hurry!" 

Twenty  minutes  later  Toby  came  back  and  found 
Walton  still  at  his  desk,  the  money  before  him ;  his  face 
had  taken  on  an  ashen  tinge,  the  eye  he  raised  had  a 
lacklustre  expression. 

259 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETN  GALT 

"Well?"  he  said,  eagerly. 

"I  missed  him  for  the  first  few  minutes,"  the  clerk 
said.  "  He  was  on  the  way  to  the  train.  I  took  the 
belt-line  down.  He  was  on  the  car  ahead.  I  was  just 
in  time  to  see  him  board  the  Atlanta  special." 

"So  he's  gone?" 

"Yes,  he's  gone,  Mr.  Walton." 

The  old  man  stared  helplessly  for  a  minute  into  the 
puzzled  face  of  his  clerk,  and  then  he  drew  the  pad  to 
him  on  which  he  had  written  the  name  of  his  caller. 

"Me  'n'  him  had  a  tiff,"  he  said.  "We  had  a  sort  o' 
tiff — I  reckon  you  might  call  it  that — after  he  had  told 
me  a  long  cock-and-bull  tale  about  Fred  reforming,  and 
I  laughed  at  him.  I  reckon  I  was  rough.  Then  he 
threw  this  money  at  me  all  in  a  chunk  to  settle  off  the 
boy's  account,  and  said  it  might  talk  plainer  than  he 
had.  Toby,  it  don't  look  exactly  like  a  fake.  Fakes 
ain't  worked  that  way.  You  see,  it  was  all  up  between 
me  and  him,  and  there  wasn't  a  thing  he  could  gain  by 
it,  and  yet  he  yanked  out  this  wad  and  threw  it  at  me 
like  so  much  waste  paper.  He  refused  to  say  where  he 
lives,  but  here's  his  name.  Fred  wrote  that  the  fellow 
he  was  with  was  a  merchant,  and  a  big  one  at  that.  I 
wonder  if  there  is  any  way  of  finding  out  just  who  and 
what  the  dang  fool  is?" 

"  You  say  you  didn't  get  his  address?"  Toby  inquired, 
as  he  helplessly  stroked  his  colorless  face  and  sparse 
mustache. 

"No."  The  banker  uttered  something  like  a  moan  of 
self-disgust.  "  He  intimated  that  he  kept  it  back  to 
keep  me  from  running  the  boy  down.  I  reckon  I  made 
a  big  fool  of  myself  in  the  presence  of  a  man  that  may 
have  unlimited  capital  for  all  I  know.  That's  where  my 
judgment  slipped  a  cog  for  once,  I  reckon.  I  set  in  to 
believe  he  was  out  after  my  money,  and  went  a  little 
mite  over  the  limit.  He  didn't  look  rich,  covered  with 

260 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

dust  like  he  was,  but  he  may  be — he  may  be  all  Fred 
has  claimed.  Can  you  think  of  any  way,  Toby,  to  get 
a  report  on  him?" 

"I  might  take  Bradstreet's  by  States,"  the  clerk  sug 
gested,  "and  run  through  all  the  towns  and  cities  far 
and  near." 

"It  would  take  a  month  to  go  through  that  big 
book,"  Walton  said,  dejectedly,  "and  I  want  to  know 
to-day,  right  off.  If— if  I've  made  a  break  as  big  as 
that,  and — and  gone  and  insulted  a  man  who  has  be 
friended  my  boy,  and  one  who,  in  fact,  says  he  intends 
to  provide  for  him  liberally,  why,  it  would  be  nothing 
but  good  business  to  make  what  amend  lies  in  my 
power.  If  the  boy  really  has  built  himself  up,  and  made 
good  connections,  and  the  like,  why,  you  see,  Toby,  I 
ought  not  to  be  the  first — the  very  first — to — to  damage 
his  interests.  What  I  said,  in  my  rough  way,  you  see, 
might  have  a  tendency  to  sort  o'  make  this  Whipple — 
if  he  is  all  right — think  twice  before  helping  out  the  son 
of  a  man  who  rode  as  high  a  horse  as  I  was  astride  of 
just  now.  I  must  have  a  report  on  him,  I  tell  you." 

"  I'll  go  through  the  book,  Mr.  Walton,"  the  clerk 
said.  "  It  wouldn't  take  so  awful  long.  I  would  only 
have  to  run  through  the  W's,  you  know,  and  needn't 
look  in  the  little  places.  If  he  is  in  the  wholesale  line, 
he  must  be  in  a  town  of  over  ten  thousand." 

"That's  a  fact,  that's  a  fact,"  Walton  agreed.  "I 
reckon  he  didn't  think  of  that  when  he  gave  me  his 
name,  though  I  acknowledge  I  kinder  gouged  it  out  of 
him  when  he  was  good  and  hot.  Go  bring  the  book 
here  and  set  at  my  desk.  I'll  not  let  the  rest  bother 
you.  My  Lord!  my  Lord!  What  a  mess!" 

All  that  afternoon  the  clerk  bent  over  the  huge 
volume  with  its  closely  printed  columns  on  very  thin 
paper.  The  closing  hour  came.  The  typewriters  and 
clerks  went  home  and  the  front  door  was  shut,  but  still 

261 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Toby  read,  patiently  running  the  point  of  his  pencil 
down  column  after  column.  Night  came  on,  and  less 
than  half  of  the  book  still  remained  to  be  scanned. 

"Go  home  to  supper  and  come  back,"  Walton  said, 
a  strange  light  burning  in  his  shrewd  eyes.  "  I'll  meet 
you  here.  I  want  this  thing  settled.  I  don't  believe 
I  could  sleep  with  the  doubt  on  my  mind  as  to  whether 
that  man  was  fooling  me  or  not.  It  is  a  big  thing — a 
powerful  big  thing.  If  Fred  has  made  himself  of  enough 
importance  to  have  a  man  like  that  come  a  long  dis 
tance  in  his  behalf,  why,  you  see,  I  ought  to  know  about 
it,  that's  all — I  ought  to  know  about  it." 

"Yes,  you  ought  to  know,  Mr.  Walton,"  Lassiter 
said,  as  he  laid  a  blotter  between  the  pages  and  reached 
for  his  hat.  They  went  out  together  and  walked  side  by 
side  to  the  corner,  where  the  clerk  had  to  turn  off. 

"You  sort  o'  believed  in  Fred  all  along,  Toby,"  the 
banker  said,  tentatively — "  that  is,  you  used  to  talk  him 
up  to  some  extent." 

"  I  thought  he  was  in  earnest  about  what  he  wrote  in 
that  last  good-bye  letter,  Mr.  Walton.  It  made  a  deep 
impression  on  me.  It  sounded  perfectly  straight.  And 
awhile  back,  when  his  other  letter  came,  bringing  all  that 
cash,  I  was  more  sure  than  ever.  Even  when  you  said 
you  believed  it  was  a  trick,  somehow  I  couldn't  exactly 
look  at  it  that  way." 

"Well,  see  if  you  can  locate  this  Whipple,"  Walton 
said,  and,  turning  off,  he  trudged  heavily  homeward 
through  the  gathering  shadows. 

He  was  on  his  way  back  to  the  bank  about  nine 
o'clock  when  he  saw  Toby  coming  toward  him.  The 
clerk  was  walking  rapidly,  swinging  his  long  arms  to  and 
fro  like  pendulums. 

"Well,  well?"  Walton  exclaimed,  as  they  met  face  to 
face  on  the  sidewalk  in  the  flare  of  a  gas-light. 

"I  have  found  him!"  Toby  chuckled.  "There  is  no 

262 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

mistake.  Stephen  Whipple  is  a  whopping  big  whole 
sale  grocer  at  Gate  City,  Oklahoma.  He's  rated  at  over 
a  million,  with  credit  at  the  top  notch." 

"You  don't  say!"  A  negro  laborer  with  a  bag  of 
flour  on  his  shoulder  was  passing  close  by,  and  Walton 
laid  his  hand  warningly  on  the  arm  of  his  clerk  and  drew 
him  slowly  along. 

"  You  don't  say!"  he  repeated,  under  his  breath,  as  he 
clutched  Toby's  thin  arm,  "and  I  talked  to  him  like  a 
dog — like  a  hound-dog.  I  did  that,  when  he  could  buy 
and  sell  me  over  and  over.  I  sneered  at  him,  and  just 
as  good  as  called  him  a  thief,  when  he  was  right  then 
befriending  the  son  I'd  cast  off.  Say,  Toby,  you've 
got  a  sight  more  sense  than  I  have;  what  do  you  think 
I  ought  to  do  about  it?" 

"  I  really  don't  know,  Mr.  Walton,"  Toby  replied, 
awkwardly.  "Maybe  it  would  be  a  good  idea  for  you 
to  go  out  there.  From  the  way  Fred  wrote,  it  stands 
to  reason  he'd  be  glad  to  see  you,  anyway,  and — 

"  I  couldn't  do  that,  Toby,"  Walton  said,  under  his 
breath.  "After  the  stand  I  took  and  have  held  all 
these  years,  I  couldn't  go  running  after  him.  I  could 
do  some  things,  but  I  couldn't  do  that.  Besides,  you 
see,  Whipple  would  know  we'd  looked  up  his  standing, 
and  think  I'd  come  because  he  was  rich.  But,  say,  I 
have  an  idea,  Toby.  Don't  you  think  you  could  get 
on  the  train  and  go  out  there  and  take  a  look  around?" 

"Why,  yes,  if  you  advise  it,  Mr.  Walton." 

"  And  you  could  go  and  hang  about,  in  a  quiet,  know- 
nothing  way,  without  letting  Fred  see  you,  I  reckon?" 

"Easy  enough,  Mr.  Walton,  in  a  bustling  place  like 
that." 

"Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you  what  you  do.     Pack  your 

grip  to-night,   and  take  the  eight-thirty  train  in  the 

morning.     Put  up  at  some  out-of-the-way  hotel,  and  lie 

low  and  pick  up  what  information  you  can.     Don't  go 

18  263 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

about  Whipple's  place  of  business;  if  Fred  saw  you,  it 
would  spoil  it  all.  I'll  defray  your  expenses.  You  de 
serve  a  trip,  anyway.  Of  course,  even  if  the  boy  has 
made  such  a  good,  comfortable  nest  for  himself  out  there, 
that  woman  business  is  still  hanging  over  him,  and  he 
wouldn't  feel  exactly  like  facing  Stafford  folks  right 
now.  But  I  reckon  he's  been  doing  an  honest  man's 
part  by  her  along  with  his  rise.  He's  been  providing 
for  her  and  the  child  pretty  well,  I'll  be  bound.  And  in 
case  he  does  come  back,  even  on  a  visit,  we'll  help  him 
smooth  over  the  matter  as  far  as  is  in  our  power.  He 
ain't  the  first  young  chap  that's  let  his  blood  get  the 
upper  hand.  Some  of  the  great  men  of  history  have 
made  like  slips  along  at  the  start.  Yes,  we'll  try  to 
manage  that  some  way.  We  might  even  get  her  and 
her  mother  to  move  off  somewhere.  I  don't  know — I 
only  say  it  might  be  done.  Folks  in  a  plight  of  that  sort 
will  do  most  anything  when  they  are  paid,  and  it  looks 
like  Fred  won't  go  a-begging.  Now,  good-bye,  Toby. 
You've  got  a  job  of  detective  work  before  you,  but  I 
believe  you'll  be  smart  enough  to  put  it  through." 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  Mr.  Walton,"  the  clerk  said.     "  Good 
bye." 


CHAPTER    XV 

was  a  delightfully  cool  and  crisp 
I  morning  for  midsummer,  and  Doctor 
Dearing  was  on  the  lawn  between  his 
house  and  Gait's,  when  he  noticed  that 
the  railroad  president  had  come  out  into 
his  own  grounds  for  a  smoke.  The  two 
exchanged  greetings  through  cordial  signals,  and  Gait 
crossed  over  and  joined  his  friend. 

"  What  news  from  New  York  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  flicked 
the  ashes  from  his  cigar. 

"They  will  be  here  to-morrow,"  Dearing  replied. 
"Madge  has  been  homesick  for  fully  two  weeks;  but 
Uncle  Tom  made  her  stay  longer,  hoping  that  she  would 
become  more  interested  in  what  was  going  on.  They 
have  had  all  sorts  of  attentions  paid  them,  but  he  writes 
me  that  he  has  never  been  worried  so  much  in  his  life 
over  her.  He  says  she  enjoyed  the  first  two  weeks 
thoroughly,  but  lately  she  has  been  actually  depressed. 
He  tried  everything  imaginable,  but  home  was  what 
she  wanted  and  would  have." 

"And  so  they  are  coming?"  Gait  said,  reflectively. 
"  Yes,  they  are  on  the  way  now.  After  all,  what  better 
could  one  ask  for  than  a  snug  retreat  like  this  in  hot 
weather?  Madge  is  fond  of  home  She  doesn't  care 
for  giddy  social  things  among  a  lot  of  money-spending 
Yankees,  and  I  admire  her  taste." 

"Yes,  so  do  I,"  Gait  answered,  and  he  smoked  stead 
ily,  his  eyes  bent  on  the  ground. 

"I  have  an  unpleasant  job  on  hand,"   Dearing  re- 
265 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

marked.  "  I  have  delayed  it  several  times,  but  I  have 
decided  to  do  it  to-day  and  have  it  over  with." 

"What  is  it?"  Gait  asked. 

"  It  is  a  slight  operation  I  have  to  perform  on  little 
Lionel." 

"  Operation  ?  Lionel  ?"  Gait  started,  and  then  check 
ed  himself  and  stared  blankly.  "  I  didn't  know  there 
was  anything  at  all  wrong  with  him." 

"  Oh,  it  is  only  a  slight  and  common  thing  with  chil 
dren,"  Bearing  explained.  "Enlarged  tonsils  and  ade 
noidal  growth  which  must  be  removed.  Outwardly  the 
little  chap  is  as  sound  as  a  dollar,  and,  so  far,  his  wonder 
ful  strength  has  fought  the  thing  off;  but  for  a  child  so 
nervous  as  he  is,  and  high  strung  and  imaginative,  it 
might,  later  on  affect  him  seriously.  Neglected  cases 
have  brought  on  permanent  deafness  and  lung  trouble. 
It  is  inherited,  as  a  rule;  you,  yourself,  had  something 
of  that  sort,  I  think  you  told  me." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  Gait  replied.  Deep  down  within  him 
something  seemed  to  clutch  his  vitals.  In  the  ear  of 
his  naked  soul  an  accusing  voice  was  sounding :  "  In 
herited!  Inherited!"  The  word  rang  out  like  a  threat 
from  the  Infinite — from  the  vast  mystery  of  life  which 
had  of  late  been  so  tenaciously  closing  around  him. 
Even  the  pain  Lionel  was  to  undergo  was  the  outcome 
of  another's  sin. 

"Oh,  it  is  a  very  simple  operation,"  Bearing  went  on, 
"  and  in  any  ordinary  case  I  shouldn't  give  it  a  second 
thought;  but,  by  George,  I  have  become  attached  to 
that  Iitt1e  chap.  He  is  the  pluckiest  little  man  I  ever 
knew.  I  had  an  exhibition  of  his  grit  one  day  that  was 
ahead  of  anything  I  ever  saw  in  a  child.  He  had  fallen, 
and  his  upper  teeth  had  cut  a  deep  gash  in  his  tongue. 
They  sent  for  me,  and  I  saw  that  I'd  have  to  take  a  stitch 
in  it  to  close  the  ugly  gap.  It  was  a  ticklish  job,  and  I 
hardly  saw  how  I  could  do  it,  for  I  didn't  want  to  use  an 

266 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

anaesthetic.  But  I  talked  to  him  just  as  I  would  to  a 
man,  and  he  promised  me  he  wouldn't  cry.  He  didn't. 
I  give  you  my  word,  old  man,  he  didn't  whimper  as  the 
needle  went  through,  and  even  while  I  was  tying  the 
thread;  but  I  could  see  from  his  big,  strained  eyes  that 
it  hurt  him  like  rips.  A  child  with  grit  like  that,  Ken 
neth,  is  bound  to  make  a  stir  in  the  world.  I  have  no 
ticed  that  you  like  him  too,  and  I  am  glad  you  do. 
The  truth  is,  darn  you,  you  are  taking  my  place!  I'm 
jealous;  he  thinks  you  are  a  regular  king.  He  is  always 
talking  about  you." 

"When  do  you  think  you  will  do  the — the  opera 
tion?"  Gait  faltered,  as  he  averted  his  shrinking  glance 
from  Bearing's  face. 

"Why,  I  want  to  do  it  right  off.  It  is  like  this:  his 
mother  knows  it  has  to  be  done,  and  has  agreed  to 
leave  it  entirely  to  me;  but  she  is  very  nervous  over 
it.  She  has  a  vein  of  morbid  superstition  running 
through  her.  She  fancies  that  some  disaster  is  bound, 
sooner  or  later,  to  happen  to  him — in  fact,  as  she  has 
often  put  it  to  me,  she  hardly  believes  that  a  just  God 
would  allow  such  a  sensitive  and  ambitious  child  to  grow 
up  to  a  full  comprehension  of  his  humiliation. 

"  I  see — I  see  what  you  mean,"  Gait  managed  to  say, 
and  his  soul  seemed  to  writhe  anew  as  he  stood  trying 
to  make  his  words  sound  casual. 

"So  I  thought,"  the  doctor  went  on,  "that  I'd  like, 
if  possible,  to  get  it  over  without  her  knowledge,  or 
without  her  mother  knowing  of  it.  Nervous  people 
standing  around,  half  frightened  out  of  their  wits,  at 
such  a  time,  unsteady  my  hand  and  upset  me  generally. 
Now,  as  I  have  everything  in  readiness  up-stairs,  I 
think,  when  Lionel  comes  over  this  morning,  as  I've 
asked  him  to  do,  I'll  talk  him  into  it.  Young  Doctor 
Beaman,  my  new  assistant,  is  up-stairs  sterilizing  my 
instruments,  and  he  will  give  the  chloroform.  You  see, 

267 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

it  would  be  a  pleasant  surprise  and  a  relief  to  those 
doting  women  to  suddenly  find  out  that  the  thing  they 
have  made  such  a  fuss  about  is  over  and  no  harm  done." 

Gait  made  no  reply.  He  had  seen  a  trim  little  figure 
darting  across  the  lower  end  of  the  lawn,  and  saw  a 
flash  of  golden  tresses  in  the  sunlight,  and  knew  that 
Lionel  was  coming — and  to  what  ?  Gait  suppressed  an 
inward  groan.  The  unsuspecting  child  was  bounding 
along,  joyous  and  full  of  life,  to  the  grim,  inexplicable 
snare  which  had  been  set  for  him.  Young  as  he  was, 
he  was  to  be  asked  to  be  firm  and  brave,  that  his  little 
form  might  take  on  the  semblance  of  death  and  submit 
to  the  knife,  a  thing  at  the  thought  of  which  even  strong 
men  had  quailed.  And  what  might,  after  all,  be  the 
as  yet  unrevealed  outcome?  One  case  in  every  ten 
thousand,  at  least,  failed  to  survive  the  artificial  sleep, 
owing  to  this  or  that  overlooked  internal  defect.  Would 
this  child  of  malignant  misfortune  be  that  one  ? 

Lionel  drew  near,  sweeping  the  two  men  with  merry 
eyes  of  welcome.  There  was  an  instant's  hesitation  as 
to  which  to  greet  first,  and  then  instinct  seemed  to 
swerve  him  toward  Gait,  his  hand  outstretched.  With 
a  queer  throb  of  appreciation,  the  father  took  it  and 
felt  it  pulsate  in  his  clasp. 

"Come  here,  Lionel,  my  boy,"  Bearing  said,  with 
affected  lightness  of  manner.  "  You  remember  what  I 
said  one  day  about  those  ugly  lumps  down  there  in 
your  little  throat  which  are  going  to  get  bigger  and 
bigger,  till  after  a  while  you  can't  eat  any  jam  and  cake  ? 
You  wouldn't  like  that,  would  you?" 

"  I  remember."  Lionel  passed  his  tapering  hand  over 
his  white  throat.  "I  can  feel  them  when  I  swallow." 

"And  that  is  why  you  have  those  bad  dreams,  and 
jump  in  your  sleep,  and  think  you  are  falling,"  Bearing 
added,  adroitly.  "You  know  you  promised  to  let  me 
get  them  out." 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Oh,  not  to-day!"  the  boy  protested,  throwing  a 
wistful  glance  up  at  the  unclouded  sky.  "  I  was  going 
to  build  a  really-really  house  out  of  the  bricks  at  the 
barn.  I  have  a  stove-pipe  for  a  smoke-stack.  I'll  show 
you  both.  Come  with  me!  Oh,  it's  great!" 

"  Not  to-day.  Lionel,  listen."  Dearing  drew  the  boy 
close  to  him,  and  tenderly  stroked  back  his  hair  from 
his  fine  brow.  "Mamma,  you  know,  is  terribly  nervous 
about  it.  Women  are  that  way,  aren't  they?  Men 
and  boys,  like  us,  know  better.  She  can  hardly  sleep 
at  night  for  thinking  about  it — even  a  little  thing  like 
that.  We  can  do  it  now,  and  I  can  run  over  and  tell  her 
you  are  sleeping  like  a  kitten  in  my  big  bed  up-stairs,  and 
she  and  Granny  will  be  so  glad.  It  won't  hurt  a  bit,  you 
know,  for  the  medicine  will  make  you  sleep  through  it  all." 

A  shadow  of  deep  disappointment  came  into  Lionel's 
expressive  eyes.  The  warm  color  of  life  in  his  face 
faded  into  tense  gravity,  and  they  saw  him  clasp  his 
little  hands  and  wring  them  undecidedly. 

"  And  you  think  to-day  is  the  best  time?"  he  faltered, 
on  the  edge  of  refusal. 

"The  very  best  of  all,  Lionel,"  Dearing  said,  gently. 
"You  wouldn't  be  afraid  of  me,  would  you?" 

The  child  stared  dumbly.  To  Gait's  accusing  sense 
the  world  had  never  held  a  more  desolate  sentient  being 
than  this  incipient  repetition  of  himself.  The  child  had 
proved  that  he  knew  no  physical  fear.  To  what,  then, 
did  he  owe  this  evident  clutch  of  horror?  Could  it  be 
due  to  some  psychic  warning  of  approaching  danger,  or 
was  the  sensitive  child  telepathically  governed  by  the 
morbid  fears  which,  at  that  moment,  were  raging  in  the 
heart  of  his  father? 

"Come,  that's  a  good,  nice  boy!"  Dearing  urged. 
"I  see  you  are  going  to  be  a  brave  little  man." 

"I'm  not  afraid  it  will  hurt,"  Lionel  faltered,  "but  I 
don't  like  to  be  put  to — to  sleep." 

269 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  But  it  must  be  so,  my  boy,"  the  doctor  said.  "  Come 
on.  Mamma  will  see  us  in  a  minute  and  smell  a  mouse." 

For  a  moment  yet  the  child  stood  undecided,  his  gaze 
alternately  on  the  two  faces  before  him.  Suddenly, 
while  they  waited  and  his  eyes  were  resting  in  strange 
appeal  on  Gait,  he  asked: 

"Will  you  come,  too?" 

A  shock  as  if  from  some  unknown  force  went  through 
the  man  addressed,  but,  seeing  no  alternative,  he  an 
swered  : 

"If  you  wish  it,  yes,  of  course." 

"And  you  think  I  ought  to — to  do  it?" 

"Yes,"  Gait  nodded,  his  head  rocking  like  that  of  an 
automaton.  "The  doctor  knows  best." 

"Well,  then,  I'll  go,"  the  boy  sighed,  with  another 
wistful  look  over  the  lawn.  "I'll  go." 

As  they  were  entering  the  house,  by  some  strange 
mandate  of  fate  or  instinct  the  boy  again  took  his 
father's  hand,  and  Gait  held  it  as  they  began  to  ascend 
the  broad,  walnut  stairs.  Argue  as  he  would  that  the 
operation  was  only  a  most  ordinary  thing,  to  Gait's 
morbid  state  of  mind  it  assumed  the  shape  of  a  tragedy 
staged  and  enacted  by  the  very  imps  of  darkness. 

On  the  way  up  the  boy  tripped  on  the  stair-carpeting 
and  slipped  and  fell  face  downward.  He  was  unhurt, 
but  Gait  raised  him  in  his  arms  and  bore  him  up  the 
remainder  of  the  steps  into  a  big,  light  room  off  the  cor 
ridor. 

"Here  we  are,  Doctor  Beaman!"  Bearing  cheerily 
called  out  to  a  slender,  beardless  young  man,  who,  with 
a  towel  in  hand,  was  bending  over  some  polished  in 
struments  on  the  bureau.  "This  is  the  little  chap  who 
never  cries  when  he  is  hurt.  He  is  a  regular  soldier, 
I  tell  you!" 

"  No,  I'm  not  afraid,"  the  boy  said,  as  he  stood  alone 
in  the  centre  of  the  room;  but  still,  as  his  father  noted, 

270 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

there  was  a  certain  contradictory  rigidity  of  his  features 
which  he  had  never  remarked  before. 

Gait  told  himself  that  the  child's  evident  dread,  vague 
as  it  was,  was  also  an  inheritance;  for  he  recalled  how 
he  himself  had  once  taken  ether  to  have  a  slight  oper 
ation  performed.  He  had  been  a  man  in  years  at  the 
time,  and  yet  the  effect  on  his  mind  as  to  what  might 
be  the  outcome  had  been  most  depressing.  That  day, 
as  he  was  doing  now,  he  had  looked  upon  the  drug- 
induced  sleep  as  a  dangerous  approach  to  death;  and 
now,  as  then,  he  gravely  feared  that  the  tiny  thread 
of  reduced  vitality  might  be  torn  asunder.  He  stood 
dumb  with  accusing  horror  as  the  two  doctors  hastily 
made  their  grewsome  arrangements,  such  as  securing 
warm  water,  fresh  towels  and  sheets,  which,  in  their  very 
whiteness,  suggested  a  shroud. 

The  noise  made  as  they  drew  a  narrow  table  across 
the  resounding  floor  into  the  best  light  between  the 
two  windows  jarred  harshly  on  his  tense  nerves.  These 
things  were  grim  enough,  but  the  wan  isolation  of  the 
waiting  child,  as  he  stood  with  that  war  against  fear 
and  shame  of  fear  going  on  in  his  great,  fathomless 
eyes,  so  like  those  of  his  artist-mother — that  appealing 
little  figure,  nameless,  disowned  among  men,  was  stamp 
ed  on  the  retina  of  Gait's  eye  for  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

"Now,  take  off  your  waist  and  collar  and  necktie," 
Bearing  said  to  Lionel — "  that  will  be  enough.  We'll 
have  you  all  right  in  a  jiffy.  You  are  not  afraid  now, 
are  you?" 

Gait's  heart  sank  like  a  plummet,  for  the  child's  lips 
moved,  but  no  sound  issued.  The  little  fellow  turned 
his  face  away  as  he  began  to  undress.  He  removed  the 
flowing  necktie,  but  his  little  fingers  could  not  un 
fasten  the  stiff  linen  collar. 

"  Help  him,  Kenneth,"  Dearing  said.  "  My  hands  are 
full." 

271 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Gait  obeyed,  his  fingers  coming  into  contact  with  the 
cold  chin  of  the  child  and  the  soft  flesh  of  his  neck.  He 
felt  like  snatching  the  boy  from  the  damnable  spot,  as 
a  mother  might  her  young  from  the  claws  of  a  wild  beast. 
Yet,  outwardly  calm,  he  drew  the  sleeves  of  the  child's 
blouse  off  and  laid  it  on  a  chair. 

"  Now  we  are  ready  for  you,  young  man,"  Bearing 
said,  lightly.  "  I  see  you  are  not  afraid  I'll  hurt  you." 

"No,  I  know  it  won't  hurt,"  Lionel  said,  "but — ' 

"Don't  you  begin  butting  me,"  Dearing  laughed. 
"  You  are  not  a  goat  like  the  one  that  butted  Grover 
Weston  heels  over  head  the  other  day." 

"  If  I  shouldn't  wake  up — I  mean  if  I  really  shouldn't, 
you  know,"  Lionel  finished,  with  a  faint  effort  to  smile 
at  the  doctor's  jest,  "  won't  you  please  not  tell  my  mother 
too  quick  ?  She  gets  frightened  so  easily,  and,  you  see, 
if  I  didn't  wake  up — if  I  never  woke  again — 

"Ah,  come  off!"  Dearing  laughed,  as  he  turned  to  his 
assistant.  "  Doctor,  this  kid  hints  that  we  don't  know 
our  business." 

"But  if  I  didn't  wake,  if  I  didn't!"  Lionel  insisted, 
"you'd  not  scare  her,  would  you?  And — and" — his 
lower  lip  quivered  —  "  wouldn't  you  tell  her  that  I 
wasn't  a  bit  afraid,  and  that  I  didn't  cry,  and — wait! 
wait!  Won't  you  tell  her  that  it  didn't  hurt  a  single 
bit,  not  even  a  little  teensy  bit  ?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  Dearing  said,  and,  considerably  taken 
aback,  he  stared  at  Gait  rather  than  at  the  insistent 
speaker.  "  I'll  tell  her  you  are  the  best  boy  in  the  world — 
the  best,  the  bravest,  and  the  sweetest.  And  God  knows 
I'll  mean  it,"  he  finished,  in  a  lower  tone  to  Gait.  "  I've 
seen  thousands  of  kids,  Kenneth,  but  this  one  gets  nearer 
me  than  all  the  rest  put  together.  I  swear  I  am  almost 
tempted  to  throw  the  darn  job  up.  But,  you  see,  it  has 
to  be  done.  Doctor,"  turning  to  his  assistant,  "put 
him  on  the  table,  and  I'll  tickle  his  nose  and  make  him 

272 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

laugh.  We'll  make  him  have  the  funniest  dreams  he 
ever  had." 

Doctor  Beaman  went  to  the  boy  and  held  out  his  arms, 
and  Lionel  was  lifted  to  the  table  and  stretched  out  on 
the  crisp  sheet  which  had  been  spread  over  it.  Just 
then,  happening  to  look  round,  Dearing  saw  Gait's  face, 
and  hastily  stepped  to  his  side.  "My  Lord!"  he  whis 
pered,  "  I  see  this  thing  is  going  against  you,  old  man. 
You  are  nauseated ;  you  look  faint.  Many  men  are  that 
way — young  students  sometimes  have  to  give  up  sur 
gery  for  that  reason.  It  is  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of. 
You  like  the  little  chap,  and  your  sympathies  are  worked 
up,  that's  all.  But,  really,  I  don't  think  you  ought  to 
stay.  I  become  nervous  if  others  are,  and  I  must  have 
a  free  hand.  Besides,  if  you  were  to  keel  over  in  a 
faint  at  an  important  moment  I  couldn't  look  after  you. 
You'd  better  run  down-stairs  and  take  a  whiff  of  air. 
I'll  call  you  when  it  is  over." 

"Is  he  going? — must  he  go?"  Lionel  asked,  as  he 
turned  his  head  and  saw  Gait  moving  to  the  door. 

"Yes,"  Dearing  said,  "but  only  down-stairs." 

"Oh,"  the  child  exclaimed,  regretfully,  and  averted 
his  face,  "I  thought  he  could  stay!" 

Down  into  the  still  silence  of  the  great  hall  Gait  went. 
There  was  something  heartlessly  maddening  in  the 
calm,  yellow  sunlight  on  the  grass,  which  he  could  see 
through  the  doorway.  The  birds  in  the  trees,  as  they 
flitted  about  with  twigs  in  their  mouths  and  chirped  in 
glee,  seemed  mocking  voices  of  despair  from  the  deliber 
ate  tyranny  of  the  universe. 

"God  have  mercy  and  spare  him!"  the  man  cried 
out  from  the  depths  of  his  agony.  "  Spare  him,  O  God, 
spare  him!" 

Unconscious  of  the  incongruous  prayer  which  had 
fallen  from  his  lips,  he  turned  into  the  drawing-room, 
on  the  left  of  the  hall,  and  sank  into  an  easy-chair,  cov- 

273 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

ering  his  face  with  his  stiff  hands.  Suddenly  he  heard 
a  light  step  on  the  veranda,  and,  raising  his  eyes,  he  saw 
Dora  standing  in  the  hall,  glancing  wildly  and  excitedly 
about  her.  Possessed  by  the  fear  that  she  might  call 
out,  and  thus  make  her  presence  known  at  that  most 
crucial  moment,  he  rose  and  hastened  to  her.  She  did 
not  see  him  till  he  was  close  at  her  side,  and  then  she 
turned  and  their  eyes  met. 

"Where  is  Lionel — where  is  my  child?"  she  panted- 

He  stood  staring  at  her,  unable  to  formulate  a  reply, 
and,  brushing  past  him  with  an  air  of  contempt,  which 
he  read  all  too  clearly,  she  turned  to  the  stairs,  and 
started  to  ascend. 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't — you  really  mustn't!"  he  called  out 
in  protest,  and  he  put  a  detaining  hand  on  her  arm. 

Shrinking  from  his  touch,  she  stared  at  him  piteously. 

"Then  they  really  are  doing  it!"  she  cried.  "They 
are  up  there  operating  on  my  child!  I  knew  it  when 
Doctor  Beaman  drove  up,  and  Doctor  Wynn  came  and 
asked  Lionel  to  play  over  here." 

Gait  made  no  denial.  He  stood  beside  her,  swept 
out  of  himself  by  the  sheer  power  of  her  astounding 
beauty,  as  he  now  beheld  it  for  the  first  time  since  their 
parting.  In  his  wildest  stretch  of  fancy  as  to  what  the 
years  might  have  brought  her,  he  had  not  dreamed  that 
she  had  become  such  a  flower  among  women.  There 
was  a  seductive  maturity  of  intellect  in  her  faultless  face. 
The  strange,  appealing,  and  yet  unreadable  lights  of 
genius  were  burning  in  her  dark,  mystic  eyes.  He  stood 
before  her  with  the  smitten  humility,  the  cringing  shame, 
of  a  subject  rebuked  by  his  queen. 

"Yes,  I  am  sure  of  it!"  she  moaned,  and  she  lowered 
her  glorious  head  to  the  newel  of  the  stairs  and  shud 
dered.  "They  are  cutting  my  darling,  and  I  can't  go 
to  him.  Doctor  Wynn  thought  he'd  spare  my  feelings 
— as  if  that  counted." 

274 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

She  suddenly  looked  him  squarely  in  the  face,  and 
he  shrank  before  the  calm  penetration  of  her  stare. 
"We'll  never  see  him  alive  again,"  she  said,  in  a  low, 
husky  voice — "never  again  on  earth!" 

"Oh  no,  don't  say  that!"  he  cried,  finding  his  sub 
merged  voice  in  the  agony  produced  by  her  suggestion. 
"  God  wouldn't  be  so  unmerciful — the  child  has  harmed 
no  one!" 

"You  speak  of  God,"  she  suddenly  retorted,  standing 
farther  from  him  and  drawing  herself  erect.  "  The  word 
was  a  joke  with  you  once,"  she  added,  with  a  bitter  sneer. 
"  And  I  believed  your  puny  theories,  and  blindly  followed 
out  the  deductions  you  made  with  your  nose  in  the  earth 
during  our  vain  dream  of  intellectual  supremacy.  But 
a  change  was  wrought  in  me.  Into  my  wretched  dark 
ness  Lionel  came,  and  I  saw  and  was  convinced.  He 
was  my  living,  pulsating,  immortal  link  to  the  Infinite. 
But  he  is  not  for  the  earth.  He  is  above  it.  God  al 
lowed  Christ  to  suffer  the  pangs  of  a  material  existence 
for  the  salvation  of  the  world,  but  He  is  too  merciful  to 
let  my  sensitive  darling  face  what  he  would  have  to  face. 
Lionel  was  sent  to  lift  me,  with  his  tiny  hands,  from  the 
slough  into  which  I  had  fallen,  but  his  mission  is  over — 
oh,  God,  it  is  over!  How  can  I  bear  it — how  can  I  live 
without  him?  He  is  my  life,  my  soul!"  She  covered 
her  tortured  face  with  her  bloodless  hands  and  remained 
still,  save  for  the  emotion  which  quivered  through  her 
hysterical  frame. 

Gait  stood  gazing  at  her  for  a  moment,  an  almost  un 
controllable  yearning  on  him  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms 
and  beg  her  forgiveness.  He  might  have  done  so  but 
for  the  fear  of  offending  her.  He  glanced  up  the  stairs. 
How  still  it  was  above !  How  like  death !  In  his  alarm 
ed  fancy  he  saw  the  two  doctors  standing  aghast  over 
the  still,  senseless  form  of  his  child.  They  had  mis 
calculated  !  The  physical  examination  had  misled  them ; 

275 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

ether  should  have  been  the  drug  employed  rather  than 
chloroform ! 

Uncovering  her  face,  Dora  read  his  thoughts.  She 
uttered  a  low,  despairing  wail,  and  they  stood  looking 
into  each  other's  eyes.  There  was  a  sound  of  sudden 
movement  on  the  floor  above.  Some  one  was  raising 
a  window-sash  at  the  top  of  the  stairs. 

"  I  am  sweating  like  an  ox!"  they  heard  Bearing  say; 
and — could  they  believe  their  ears? — he  was  actually 
laughing,  and  calling  out  to  Lionel:  "I  told  you  you'd 
not  know  when  it  was  done.  Now,  lie  down  and  go  to 
sleep.  You  are  as  sound  as  a  silver  dollar.  It  may 
sting  just  a  little  tiny  bit  when  you  swallow,  but  that 
will  be  gone  by  to-morrow.  Go  to  sleep,  and  when  you 
wake  IM  have  that  tricycle  ready." 

"Thank  God — thank  God,"  Dora  exclaimed,  "he  is 
saved!" 

She  started  up  the  stairs,  and  in  desperation  Gait 
caught  her  arm.  "Wait  one  moment,  Dora,"  he  im 
plored,  "  I  have  something  to  say.  You  must  hear  me. 
I  am—" 

"Don't  stop  me!"  She  shook  his  hand  loose  from 
her  sleeve,  and  the  haughty  look  of  contempt  he  had 
noticed  before  rose  into  her  fathomless  eyes  as  she 
glanced  back  at  him.  "  I  am  going  up  to  him.  I  won't 
waken  him.  I'll  be  very  quiet,  but  I  must  be  near 
him." 

Standing  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  he  saw  her  ascend 
and  disappear  above.  How  beautiful  she  was!  How 
rare  and  exquisite — how  infinitely  removed  from  her 
kind.  And  that  was  Dora — the  Dora  of  all  that  was 
good  and  pure  of  his  past,  the  guileless  victim  of  all  that 
was  low,  sordid,  and  unworthy  within  him! 


CHAPTER    XVI 


LASSITER  returned  from  the 
West  one  sultry  evening  at  dusk,  and 
'went  straight  to  the  house  of  his  em- 
'ployer.  He  found  the  banker  seated  on 
the  front  porch  without  his  coat,  and 
H^  cooling  himself  with  a  big  palm-leaf  fan. 
"So  you  are  back?"  he  said,  casting  a  furtive  glance 
over  his  shoulder  into  the  unlighted  hall.  "  Get  that 
chair  and  pull  it  up  close.  If  my  wife  happens  to  come 
out  while  you  are  talking,  sort  o'  switch  off  to  something 
else — the  market  reports — anything  under  high  heavens 
except  what  you  went  off  for.  She  never  took  to  Fred 
noway,  and  anything  in  his  favor  or  otherwise  sets  her 
tongue  going.  She  thinks  he  is  plumb  out  of  my  pres 
ent  calculations,  and  any  hint  that  he  was  getting  on 
his  feet  would  give  her  tantrums.  She  is  back  in  the 
kitchen,  seeing  to  the  supper  things.  She  is  as  close  as 
the  bark  on  a  tree,  and  is  afraid  that  nigger  woman  will 
lug  off  supplies.  I  took  her  because  she  was  stingy.  I 
sort  o'  admired  it  at  first,  but  it  ain't  as  becoming  in  a 
woman  as  it  is  in  a  man.  I  don't  know  why,  but  it 
ain't.  Well,  fire  away.  What  did  you  do?" 

"I  went  straight  out  to  Gate  City,  Mr.  Walton,"  the 
clerk  began,  in  the  tone  of  a  man  full  of  an  experience.  "  I 
would  have  written  home,  but  I  didn't  get  on  to  much 
of  importance  the  first  three  days,  and  then  I  knew  I 
could  get  back  about  as  quick  as  a  letter  could." 
"Yes,  of  course,"  Walton  said.  "Well?" 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"I  found  it  about  the  most  hustling  town  I  ever 
struck,  Mr.  Walton.  It  is  wide  open,  I  tell  you.  Of 
course,  it  isn't  anything  like  as  big,  but  it  was  as  busy- 
looking  on  the  main  streets  as  Atlanta  or  Nashville.  I 
thought  best  not  to  be  seen  about  the  very  centre,  you 
know,  so  I  took  board  in  a  little  hotel  in  what  they  call 
'  Railroad  Town,'  on  the  east  side,  among  the  machine- 
shops.  I  pretended  to  be  looking  for  a  job." 

"You  did,  eh?     You  say  you  did ?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  and  I  found  that  it  was  a  pretty  good  trick, 
for  it  set  folks  to  chatting  about  the  different  enter 
prises  in  town.  You  may  think  it  is  funny,"  Toby 
laughed,  impulsively — "  I  know  I  did  when  I  finally  got 
the  key  to  it — but  I  could  hardly  start  any  sort  of  talk 
with  anybody  who  didn't  sooner  or  later  ring  in  the 
wonderful  rise  of  a  certain  fellow  by  the  name  of  '  Spen 
cer,'  who  was  in  this  same  Whipple's  employ.  They 
all  said  he'd  come  there  without  a  cent — a  ragged  tramp, 
in  fact;  but  that  he  had  taken  hold  in  Whipple's  big 
store,  and  forged  ahead  till  he  was  the  old  man's  main 
stay  and  chief  manager.  They  told  about  all  sorts  of 
deals  that  this  'Spencer'  had  helped  Whipple  put 
through.  I  got  kind  o'  tired  of  it  all,  and  would  every 
now  and  then  ask  if  there  wasn't  a  young  fellow  by  the 
name  of  '  Walton '  working  there ;  but  they  said  if  there 
was  they  had  never  heard  of  him,  and  went  on  about 
Spencer.  I  was  beginning  to  think  there  might  be 
something  crooked  in  that  fat  man's  tale  to  you,  and  at 
one  time  I  laid  awake  all  night  troubled  powerfully. 
You  see,  the  fellow  who  called  here  and  paid  the  three 
thousand  might  have  been  just  using  Whipple's  name 
and  reputation  to  help  him  work  some  scheme." 

"Oh,  you  thought  that!"  and  Walton  drew  his  brows 
together  and  bit  his  lip. 

"Yes;  but  not  for  long,  Mr.  Walton.  The  next  day 
I  ventured  closer  in  to  the  centre  of  the  town,  and  was 

278 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

looking  about  on  the  main  street  at  the  up-to-date  im 
provements  on  all  sides,  when  I  saw  a  fellow  thumping 
along  the  sidewalk  that  looked  so  much  like  our  man 
that  I  dodged  into  the  front  part  of  a  bar-room  and 
waited  till  he  went  by.  Then  I  pointed  him  out  to  a 
policeman,  and  asked  him  who  it  was. 

'"Why,  that,'  said  the  cop — 'that  is  our  big  grocery 
king,  Stephen  Whipple.  He  is  a  self-made  man,  and 
as  rich  as  goose-grease.  He  built  us  a  fine  church,  a 
library  out  of  white  marble,  and  donated  the  land  for  a 
city  park,  and  done  a  lot  of  other  things.' " 

"Oh,  he  was  all  right,  then!" 

"Yes,  sir,  as  I  substantiated  later,"  Toby  ran  on,  en 
thusiastically.  "  But  the  best  thing  is  to  be  told,  Mr. 
Walton.  A  few  minutes  after  that  who  should  I  see 
but  Fred  himself  rushing  along  the  street  with  some 
account  -  books  under  his  arm,  as  if  he  was  in  a  great 
hurry.  He  was  dressed  as  fine  as  a  fiddle,  and  folks  all 
along  the  street  was  bowing  to  him  as  if  he  owned  the 
town.  I  dodged  back  into  the  bar  and  let  him  pass,  and 
when  I  slipped  out  a  minute  later  the  same  policeman 
nabbed  me  and  pointed  Fred  out  as  he  was  walking  on. 
'That,'  said  the  policeman,  'is  Mr.  Spencer,  the  old 
man's  adopted  son — the  young  man  he  has  just  taken 
into  partnership.  They  are  hanging  a  new  sign  down 
at  the  store  now.'" 

"  Adopted  son !"  fell  from  the  banker's  lips.  "  Spencer 
was  Fred's  middle  name.  Great  Lord,  Toby,  do  you 
reckon  it's  true?" 

"True  as  gospel,  Mr.  Walton.  I  heard  a  lot  about 
it  on  all  sides,  but  I  saw  enough  with  my  own  eyes  to 
convince  me  that  there  was  no  mistake.  I  went  out 
to  where  the  Whipples  live  one  dark,  cloudy  night,  and 
walked  clean  round  the  house.  I  could  see  into  the  sitting- 
room,  for  it  was  lighted  up  bright.  Whipple  was  there, 
and  a  gray-haired,  kind-looking  old  lady  that  was  his 
19  279 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

wife,  I  reckon,  and  Fred.  They  were  all  sitting  round  a 
green  lamp  on  a  table.  From  where  I  stood,  of  course, 
I  couldn't  hear  a  word  that  was  said,  but  it  seemed  like 
Fred  was  telling  some  funny  yarn  or  other,  like  he  used 
to  do  here  at  home,  you  know,  and  both  the  old  folks 
were  laughing.  I  don't  know  when  anything  ever  has 
affected  me  as  much  as  that  sight  did.  I  reckon  I  was 
homesick  myself,  away  out  there  playing  the  sneak, 
like  I  was,  and  it  made  me  awful  blue.  You  know,  sir, 
I  always  did  like  Fred,  and  I  don't  believe  many  folks 
ever  knew  how  much  he  missed  his  mother.  And  some 
how,  when  I  saw  him  in  an  entirely  new  home  like  that, 
away  off  from  old  ties,  why — well — it  sort  o'  got  the 
best  of  me.  Maybe,  as  I  say,  it  was  because  I  was  home 
sick,  but  I  never  wanted  to  speak  to  anybody  in  all  my 
life  as  much  as  I  did  to  him  at  that  minute." 

The  head  of  the  banker  went  down,  his  chin  rested 
on  his  breast,  and  he  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  Then 
he  looked  up,  threw  a  cautious,  half-fearful  glance  back 
into  the  house,  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"Let's  walk  down  to  the  gate,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  un 
steady  voice.  "I  want  to  talk,  Toby,  and  yet  I  don't 
hardly  know  what  a  body  could  say.  I  have  faced  lots 
of  criticism  and  slurs  in  my  day  and  time,  and  never 
cared  much  what  was  said;  but,  between  me  and  you, 
this  thing  strikes  me  down  deep.  You  see,  it  is  pretty 
tough  the  way  it  turned  out — this  having  other  folks 
give  a  body's  son  a  home,  and  all  that,  and  I  hate  to 
think  that  folks  here  in  Stafford  will  get  onto  it  and 
chatter.  I  understand  'em  well  enough  to  know,  in 
advance,  what  they  will  say.  I  don't  care  what  they 
think  about  me  losing  money,  and  the  like,  for  that's 
just  business.  But  the  other  thing  cuts — it  cuts  deep. 
I  reckon  the  boy  didn't  get  any  too  much  attention 
at  home  after  I  married  the  last  time,  and  I  reckon,  if 
the  truth  was  known,  I  was  influenced  against  him  some 

280 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

by  his  stepmother's  constant  nagging  about  his  ways. 
I  say  I  reckon  I  was  influenced,  for  I  hardly  think  I'd 
have  been  quite  as  tight  on  the  boy  if  there  had  been 
just  me  and  him  left  at  home  after  his  mother  died. 
My  first  wife  was  a  good  woman,  Toby.  I  never  knew 
how  good  and  loving  she  was  till  she  was  put  away  for 
ever.  But  the  town  will  talk  now  good  fashion.  They 
will  say  Fred  served  me"  right  to  go  off  and  get  appre 
ciated  and  loved  by  folks  that  was  no  blood  kin,  but 
who  simply  took  him  on  merits  I  was  too  mean  to  see. 
They  will  have  the  laugh  on  me.  They  will  call  me  an 
old  hog,  and  I  reckon  I  deserve  it.  You  know,  yourself, 
that  I  come  within  an  inch  of  clapping  handcuffs  on  him. 
I'd  actually  have  done  it  if  you  hadn't  shown  me  that 
it  would  go  against  my  pocket." 

"I  think  you  look  at  it  too  seriously,  Mr.  Walton," 
Toby  ventured  to  say,  as  the  two  leaned  on  the  gate  and 
looked  down  the  gas-lighted  street.  "You  mustn't  for 
get  that  Fred  has  been  longing  for  your  forgiveness  all 
these  years.  What  he  did  was  wrong,  it  is  true,  and  at 
present  it  may  be  the  chief  bar  to  his  content.  Besides, 
me  and  you  are  the  only  persons  who  know  about  his 
shortage.  You  have  never  been  a  man  to  talk  of  your 
private  affairs,  and,  for  all  this  town  knows  or  ever  need 
know,  you  may  have  been  in  touch  with  Fred  all  these 
years.  In  fact,  they  may  not  know  but  what  the — the 
other  matter  was  the  only  cause  of  Fred's  leaving." 

"Toby,  you  are  a  good  un!  You'll  do,  you'll  do! 
Of  course,  the  woman  business  is  bad,  but  the  world 
somehow  don't  condemn  it  as  heavy  as  some  other 
things.  No,  you  are  right;  this  blasted  town  needn't 
know  about  the  trouble  between  me  and  him.  He 
won't  want  to  come  back  here  nohow  till  the  other  mat 
ter  is  arranged  some  way,  and,  between  me  and  you, 
we  can  sort  o'  spring  his  big  success  on  the  town — kind 
o'  off-hand,  you  know,  as  if  it  ain't  nothing  to  wonder  at." 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"A  good  idea,  Mr.  Walton!"  Toby  declared,  enthu 
siastically.  "It  will  set  'em  wild." 

"But  we'll  leave  the  adopted-son  part  out,  Toby." 
"Of  course,  sir;  oh  yes,  sir;  that  needn't  go  in!" 
"We  might  just  tell  about  his  being  a  partner  in  the 
business,  or  something  along  that  line." 
"Of  course,  sir." 

"And  I'll  go  out  there,  Toby.  It  will  be  like  pulling 
eye-teeth,  but  I'll  go.  I'll  knuckle,  too,  I  reckon,  to  that 
fat  chump.  I'll  make  my  will  in  the  boy's  favor  and 
show  it  to  Whipple,  with  an  itemized  list  of  my  hold 
ings,  here  and  there.  He  won't  sneer  then,  I  reckon. 
Besides,  Fred  won't  go  back  on  me.  Blood's  thicker 
than  water,  and  if  I  have  been  harsh — well,  even  if  I 
have,  my  money  will  be  as  acceptable  as  that  old  skunk's. 
Yes,  I'll  run  out  in  a  day  or  so.  And,  Toby,  I'll  not 
even  touch  on  the  woman-and-child  affair.  He  may 
think  it  never  got  out;  he  may  believe  she's  kept  it 
quiet.  In  the  letters  he  wrote  me,  he  never  once  alluded 
to  it,  and  that  shows  he  is  not  ready  to  admit  it,  any 
way.  No,  we  won't  push  that  on  him  at  such  a  time; 
he  never  would  want  to  come  home  if  he  knew  there  had 
been  such  an  uproar." 


CHAPTER    XVII 

'IMON  WALTON  had  been  away  a 
week,  and  the  force  at  the  bank  had 
not  heard  from  him,  when  one  morning 
Toby  received  a  telegram  from  him 
dated  that  day  in  Atlanta.  The  care 
fully  chosen  ten  words  ran  as  follows: 

"  Meet  me  with  horse  and  buggy  at  afternoon  up  train." 

So  Toby  went  down  to  the  old  man's  house,  and,  un 
assisted,  got  out  the  gaunt  animal  and  the  time-worn 
vehicle  with  the  dilapidated  leather  hood,  and  drove  to 
the  station.  He  was  in  a  fine  glow  of  appreciation  of 
the  compliment  implied  by  the  telegram's  being  ad 
dressed  solely  to  him,  and  by  the  additional  fact  that 
on  returning  from  former  journeys  Walton  had  either 
walked  home  or  taken  the  cars.  Toby  told  himself, 
with  no  little  unction,  that  it  meant  that  his  em 
ployer  had  something  of  a  confidential  nature  to  im 
part. 

The  train  had  scarcely  come  to  a  standstill  when 
Simon,  who  was  on  the  front  platform  of  the  first  pas 
senger-coach,  sprang  down,  valise  in  hand,  and,  looking 
much  the  worse  for  the  dust  and  fine  cinders  that  lay 
on  him  like  frost  of  the  infernal  regions,  walked  stiffly 
toward  Toby  and  the  buggy. 

"Well,  I  see  you  got  my  wire,"  was  his  greeting,  as 
he  relinquished  the  valise  and  allowed  Toby  to  put  it 
behind  the  seat  in  the  buggy. 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  Yes,  I  got  it  all  right,"  the  clerk  responded.  "  Shall 
we  drive  home  or  to  the  bank?" 

Walton  waited  till  Toby  was  in  the  seat  beside  him; 
then  he  replied:  "Well,  we  may  as  well  head  for  home, 
though  I  reckon  we  could  take  a  sort  o'  roundabout 
direction  through  the  edge  of  town.  I  want  to  tell  you 
what  I  did  out  there,  and  we  might  not  have  as  good  a 
chance  later.  My  wife  will  be  nagging  the  life  out  of 
me  for  particulars,  and  while  there  are  no  particulars  in 
this  thing  that  she  has  any  concern  in,  if  I  was  to  be 
cornered  somewhere  with  you  right  at  the  start  she'd 
think  it  strange.  Then,  on  the  other  hand,  if  me  and 
you  slid  off  together  the  very  minute  I  got  to  the  bank, 
the  rest  might  think  I  was  partial,  and  so  I  thought 
this  slow  ride  was  the  very  idea." 

"  Yes,  of  course,  Mr.  Walton.  I  suppose  you  saw 
Fred?" 

"  Oh  yes,  but  not  the  first  shot  out  of  the  box."  Wal 
ton  took  off  his  hat  and  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his 
brow,  upon  which  lay  the  red  imprint  of  his  hatband, 
and  smiled  sheepishly.  "  The  truth  is,  Toby,  the  nigher 
I  got  to  that  blamed  town  the  sillier  I  felt,  till  by  the 
time  I  was  there  and  duly  quartered  at  what  they  told 
me  was  their  best  hotel  I  hardly  knew  my  hat  from  a 
hole  in  the  ground.  You  see,  my  predicament  was  pe 
culiar,  and  would  have  been  odd  to  any  man  in  the 
plight  I  was  in.  I  didn't  know  but  two  souls  in  the 
town.  One  of  'em  was  not  only  the  great  high  mucky- 
muck  of  the  place,  but  a  man  I'd  called  a  thief  and  a 
liar  and  kicked  plumb  out  of  my  sanctum  when  he 
had  called  to  do  me  a  favor;  and  the  other  was — well, 
he  was.  my  only  son,  who  I  had  treated  like  a  yellow  dog. 
You  see,  I  knew  that  downright  apologies  was  what  I 
owed  both  of  'em;  but,  Toby,  let  me  tell  you  something 
odd — I  don't  know  how  to  account  for  it:  but,  as  just 
and  upright  as  I've  always  been  in  my  dealings  in  a  gen- 

284 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

eral  way,  I  never,  in  so  many  plain  words,  ever  told  a 
human  being  I  was  sorry.  I  have  been  that  way,  and 
was  willing  to  try  to  sort  o'  look  it,  in  cases  where  I  was 
dead  wrong;  but  I'd  rather  take  a  thousand  lashes  on 
my  bare  back  any  day  than  come  right  out  and  beg  a 
fellow's  pardon." 

"  I  understand,"  Toby  said,  sympathetically.  "  A 
great  many  folks  are  that  way." 

"Well.  I  don't  think  I'm  like  a  great  many  folks," 
Walton  replied,  as  his  eyes  rested  on  the  back  of  his 
horse,  "but  I  couldn't  swallow  that  pill.  So  there  I 
was,  registered  at  that  fine  joint,  with  a  front  room  all 
to  myself,  overlooking  the  street,  and  the  clerks  and 
nigger  porters  looking  at  me,  same  as  to  say,  'Well, 
what  is  your  game  ?  Are  you  a  whiskey  drummer,  bank- 
examiner,  detective,  stock-drover,  or  escaped  convict?' 
I  was  like  a  fish  out  of  water.  I  didn't  know  what  to 
do  or  how  to  make  any  sort  of  start.  I  sat  round  the 
office  half  the  time,  and  the  rest  I  was  flopping  about 
in  my  room.  The  first  day  passed  that  way,  and  the 
next  night,  in  which  I  had  hardly  got  a  wink  of  sleep. 
There  was  a  bar-room  and  gambling-hell  right  under 
me,  and  I  could  hear  some  whizzing  thing  and  balls  roll 
ing,  and  a  deep  voice  calling  out  in  some  game  or  other. 
It  was  a  gay  town,  and  I  was  in  the  middle  of  it.  The 
next  morning  I  determined  I'd  write  Fred  a  note  and 
let  him  know  where  I  was  at,  but  I'd  no  sooner  got  it 
ready  and  backed  and  sealed  than  I  recalled  that  Fred 
wasn't  using  his  own  name,  and  that  a  note  addressed 
to  him  in  the  old  style  might  cause  talk,  and  so  I  tore 
it  up.  Then  I  ventured  out  and,  half-scared  to  death, 
actually  walked  by  the  big  store — on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street,  though — and  peeped  in  through  the  win 
dows.  It  was  as  busy  as  a  beehive  during  a  swarm, 
but  I  couldn't  see  head  nor  tail  of  Fred.  All  at  once  I 
took  the  bit  in  my  mouth  and  started  across  the  street 

285 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

to  go  in,  but  was  stopped  short.  And  what  do  you 
reckon  done  it,  Toby?" 

"I  can't  imagine,  Mr.  Walton,"  said  the  clerk,  deeply 
interested. 

"Toby,  it  was  that  new  sign  you  spoke  about — 
'  Stephen  Whipple  &  Son.'  It  was  on  the  front  of  the 
big  red  building,  and  seemed  to  me  to  be  just  so  many 
long,  black  letters  stalking  clean  across  the  sky.  '  Ste 
phen  Whipple  &  Son,'  and  the  last  word,  small  as  it  was, 
overtopped  all  the  rest.  The  thing  simply  knocked  me 
silly.  Wasn't  it  Saint  Paul  (it  was  one  of  them  fellows 
in  the  good  Book)  that  fell  down  in  some  great  light  that 
blazed  out  over  him  ?  Mine  wasn't  a  light ;  it  wasn't  wind ; 
it  wasn't  a  kick  in  the  jaw  from  an  army  mule,  but  it 
hit  me  like  all  three  combined.  I  was  mad;  I  was  sorry; 
I  was  ashamed;  but  I  couldn't  walk  under  that  dad- 
blasted  sign.  It  hung  over  them  doors  like  a  long 
white  sword  of  an  enemy  ready  to  chop  me  into  halves. 

"  I  whirled  about  and  went  back  to  my  room  and 
actually  hid  the  rest  of  the  day,  wondering  how  on 
earth  I  was  going  to  do  the  job.  Once  I  packed  up  my 
valise  and  started  down  to  pay  my  bill,  with  the  inten 
tion  of  shirking  the  whole  thing;  but  I  saw  that  wouldn't 
do.  So  I  passed  another  day.  I  read  my  Bible  a  little, 
and  I  reckon  I  prayed  some.  I  don't  know,  Toby,  but 
I  would  have  bowed  down  before  a  heathen  idol  to  have 
got  help  out  of  my  predicament.  I  remembered  what 
you  said  about  seeing  Fred  at  Whipple's  house,  and  the 
next  night  I  went  out  and  inquired  the  way  to  his  place. 
I  found  it,  and,  having  nothing  better  to  do,  I  walked 
clean  around  it  like  you  did.  Nobody  was  in  sight,  but 
I  could  see  lights  inside,  and  then  the  thought  came  to 
me  that  Fred,  my  son,  maybe,  was  at  that  very  minute 
in  there  keeping  company  with  that  old  man  and  woman, 
and  that  made  me  feel  as  bad  as  the  sign  had.  I  tried 
to  argue  that  I'd  been  right  in  pinning  down  on  the  boy 

286 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

for  what  he  had  done ;  but  I  knew  there  was  no  stability 
to  my  point,  for  that  fat  chap  had  secured  better  re 
sults  through  a  different  method,  and  he  wasn't  no  blood 
kin.  So  I  went  back  to  the  hotel,  and  made  another 
night  of  it.  I  wasn't  like  you.  I  couldn't  talk  to 
strangers  in  an  off-hand  way  about  it.  I  tried  once 
to  the  clerk  behind  the  counter,  but  I  couldn't  make 
it  go.  He  looked  at  me  mighty  curious,  and  I  changed 
the  subject.  I  think  I  asked  him  if  that  State  wa'n't 
heavy  on  hog-raising." 

"  You  were  in  an  embarrassing  position,"  Toby  re 
marked,  as  he  shook  the  drooping  lines  over  the  plod 
ding  horse's  back. 

"  I  never  would  have  got  out  of  it  if  it  hadn't  been  by 
pure  accident,"  Walton  said.  "The  office  of  the  hotel 
was  a  sort  of  meeting-place  for  the  young  men  of  the 
town  of  an  evening,  and  there  was  a  little  smoking  and 
writing  room  off  of  it.  I  was  sitting  there  on  the  third 
evening,  and  the  office  was  thronged  with  young  chaps. 
Some  sort  of  entertainment  was  on  hand  at  the  opera- 
house  across  the  street,  for  a  band  was  playing  outside, 
and  the  young  men  in  their  best  outfits  were  smoking 
and  chatting  in  the  office,  when  who  should  I  see  come 
in  but  Fred.  He  came  in  at  the  front  door  in  a  swallow 
tail  suit  with  a  light  overcoat  on  his  arm,  and  I  tell  you 
the  crowd  all  made  way  for  him.  Toby,  I  am  an  old 
man;  I've  been  through  the  rubs;  I've  seen  near  and 
dear  comrades  shot  down  at  my  side  on  the  field  of 
battle ;  I  have  had  all  sorts  of  experiences ;  but  the  sight 
of  my  boy  there  looking  so  much  older  and  more  dig 
nified  than  when  I  last  saw  him — a  sort  of  king  among 
his  kind— with  this  one  and  that  one  giving  him  the 
glad  hand,  and  hailing  him  right  and  left  with  words 
and  smiles  of  welcome  while  I  was  slinking  off  there — 
well,  Toby,  I  don't  want  to  live  that  over  again;  I 
don't;  as  God  is  my  Creator,  I  don't!  I  sat  there  watch- 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

ing  him  through  the  door  like — well,  you'll  have  to 
imagine  it,  and  draw  your  own  conclusions;  I  can't  tell 
you  how  I  felt.  I  was  dumb ;  I  was  speechless.  It  was 
like  a  double  nightmare.  I  haven't  shed  enough  tears 
in  my  life  to  drown  a  gnat,  but  I  wanted  to  cry  good 
and  hearty  then." 

"  And  you  met  him — I  know  you  did,"  Toby  broke  in. 
"  I  see  it  in  your  face." 

"Yes,  as  luck  would  have  it,  by  accident;  he  left  the 
others  and  come  right  into  the  room,  and  I  saw  that 
he'd  recognized  me,  for  he  turned  pale  as  death,  and 
stopped  in  front  of  me.  Then  I  saw  him  steady  himself, 
and  a  pitiful,  resigned  look  come  over  him.  If  I  live 
through  eternity,  I'll  never  forget  his  first  words.  What 
do  you  think  he  said?" 

"I  can't  imagine,  Mr.  Walton." 

"Toby,  he  said  this — he  said  this,  and  the  words  will 
haunt  me  to  my  grave.  They  will  go  with  me  into  the 
very  depths  of  my  last  abode.  He  said:  'Oh,  father, 
you  have  caught  me!  You  have  come  to  take  me 
back!  Well,  I  am  ready!' 

"Toby  Lassiter,  talk  about  your — your  hells  on  earth; 
talk  about  your  flames  of  despair,  the  worm  that  dieth 
not,  and  the  like.  I  had  'em  all.  I  couldn't  speak.  I 
didn't  even  have  the  sense  or  power  to  shake  hands,  and 
the  poor  boy  misunderstood  even  that.  He  pulled  up  a 
chair,  shaking  like  a  leaf.  Nobody  was  in  the  room  but 
us  two.  Then  somehow  I  managed  to  say  that  he  was 
mistaken,  and  that  I  hadn'  t  come  there  for  that  reason. 
I  wanted  to  talk  to  the  point  and  justify  myself,  but  I 
was  worse  than  a  stuttering  idiot  at  a  spelling-bee. 
Like  a  fool,  I  started  in  to  say  that  I  had  heard  a  lot 
about  the  progress  of  the  town,  and  he  thought  I  had 
some  speculation  on  foot  and  had  run  on  him  by  acci 
dent.  I  no  sooner  saw  that  he  thought  that  than  I  got 
tangled  up  worse  than  ever.  Nothing  short  of  begging 

288 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

his  forgiveness  would  set  things  straight,  and  I  couldn't 
have  got  that  out  to  have  saved  my  soul  from  per 
dition." 

"That  certainly  was  awkward,"  Toby  burst  out,  like 
an  enthusiast  at  a  play.  "  It  was  bad." 

"  I  reckon  we  never  would  have  understood  each 
other,  Toby,  but  we  started  to  walk  out  together,  and 
went  along  to  a  side  street  that  run  into  a  park  where 
it  wasn't  so  light.  Somehow  we  went  inside,  and  before 
I  knew  it  I  had  laid  my  hand  on  his  arm.  I  never  had 
done  a  thing  like  that  in  all  my  life,  and  all  of  a  sudden 
we  stopped  and  he  looked  right  in  my  face.  It  was  too 
much  for  me,  Toby.  I  couldn't  hold  in  any  longer. 
But  it  didn't  do  any  harm,  for  I  saw  he  understood  me, 
and  that  was  enough.  He  was  the  happiest  creature  I 
ever  laid  eyes  on ;  he  laughed  and  cried  and  petted  me, 
and  said  that  he  loved  me  a  hundred  times  more  than 
he  did  old  Whipple  and  his  wife.  Then  we  sat  down 
on  a  bench  under  the  trees  and  talked  it  all  over.  He 
talked  to  me  more  openly  than  he  ever  did  before.  He 
wanted  to  come  home  above  all  things,  but  he  wanted 
to  put  it  off  awhile.  He  told  me  about  him  and  Mar 
garet  Bearing.  She  was  the  only  real  sweetheart  he'd 
ever  had,  he  said,  and  he  could  never  care  for  anybody 
else.  It  seems  that  they  met  by  accident  awhile  back 
in  New  York,  and  she  gave  him  to  understand  that  she 
didn't  care  any  more  for  him.  He  said  it  was  because 
she  knew  of  his  shortage  at  the  bank.  But  I  told  him 
how  you  and  me  had  kept  that  quiet,  and  not  to  let  that 
bother  him.  But  he  told  me  something  that  we  didn't 
know:  he  said  he  had  confessed  it  to  her  brother  the 
night  he  left.  He  said  a  woman  as  high  and  proud  as 
she  was  never  could  overlook  anything  bordering  on 
dishonesty,  no  matter  how  much  it  was  atoned  for." 

"  She  wouldn't  be  so  hard  on  him  if  that  was  all,  Mr. 
Walton,"  Toby  said.  "But,  of  course,  she  heard  about 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

the  other  thing ;  in  fact,  the  girl  and  the  child  are  right 
there  under  her  eyes." 

"That  occurred  to  me  while  me  and  him  was  talking," 
Walton  said;  "but  I  simply  couldn't  bring  up  a  nasty 
thing  like  that  at  such  a  time.  I  thought  that  might 
as  well  rest ;  in  fact,  it  looked  to  me  like  he  thought  his 
name  had  never  been  mixed  up  with  it.  You  see,  Toby, 
maybe  the  woman  promised  that  it  shouldn't  get  out, 
and  has  kept  him  from  knowing  of  the  report  in  order 
to  bleed  his  pocket.  At  any  rate,  he  don't  seem  to  sus 
pect  what  folks  are  saying  here  at  home.  I  know  he 
wants  to  keep  me  in  the  dark,  for  he  boldly  asked  me 
about  Dora  Barry,  among  other  inquiries.  I  was  as 
tonished  at  it,  but  he  wanted  to  know  if  she'd  ever  got 
married,  and  when  I  told  him  no,  he  went  on  to  say 
that  she  was  the  best  friend  he'd  ever  had  among  the 
home  girls,  and  that  she  had  a  beautiful  character,  and 
the  like.  He  went  on  to  say  that  she  was  the  finest 
painter  of  pictures  he  had  ever  seen,  and  that  when  he 
left  he  was  sure  she  would  make  a  great  artist  out  of  her 
turn  that  way.  He  asked  me  if  she  had  put  her  talent 
to  any  use,  and  I  told  him  if  she  had  I  hadn't  heard 
about  it.  Then  he  said — he  did — that  he  was  going  to 
sit  down  and  write  her  a  friendly  letter,  and  tell  her 
where  he  was  at,  now  that  me  and  him  had  made  up. 
I  thought  he  was  piling  it  on  pretty  heavy,  you  know, 
but  I  never  let  on." 

"That  was  best,  of  course,"  Toby  opined,  reflectively. 
"Folks  are  not  apt  to  throw  up  a  thing  like  that  to  a 
man  who  has  turned  .over  a  new  leaf,  and  it  may  be 
many  a  year  before  he  discovers  how  much  has  really 
been  talked  on  that  line.  But  you  didn't  tell  me,  Mr. 
Walton.  Did  you  see  Fred's — did  you  see  Mr.  Whipple  ?" 

"It  went  powerfully  against  the  grain,  but  I  had  to," 
the  banker  said,  gruffly.  "I  was  in  for  making  a  bee- 
line  back  home  without  having  to  swallow  that  dose, 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

but  Fred  wouldn't  hear  to  it.  He  said  the  old  skunk 
would  feel  hurt.  I  didn't  care  a  dad  -  dratted  cent 
whether  he  felt  hurt  or  not ;  in  fact,  I  felt  hurt  to  have 
him  dragged  in  at  all.  I'm  glad  the  boy  has  landed  in 
such  a  pile  of  clover,  but  I  don't  like  Whipple  any  too 
much,  and  I  reckon  that  dang  sign  of  his  was  my  Bel- 
shazzar's  warning  on  the  wall.  But  it  is  this  way — well, 
you  know  what  I  mean.  I  reckon  a  body  can  look  at 
it  from  any  direction — level,  sink,  or  angle — and  the 
fact  will  still  stick  out  that  the  boy  is  divided,  and  will 
have  to  remain  divided  from  now  on.  That  ain't  usual, 
Toby;  it  is  crooked.  It  sort  o'  gives  the  lie  to  my  suc 
cess  as  a  father.  I  won't  go  into  it  any  further.  The 
whole  thing  out  there,  though,  would  have  gone  off 
smooth  enough  if  that  old  cuss  hadn't  been  in  it.  He 
had  a  slobbery  way  of  talking  to  Fred,  and  put  his  hands 
on  him  every  chance  he  got.  They  asked  me  out  to 
dinner  at  Whipple's  house  to  meet  the  old  woman,  but 
I  drew  the  line  at  that.  I  was  sure  she'd  act  the  fool 
as  bad,  or  worse,  than  Whipple  had,  and  so  I  wouldn't  go. 
I  never  was  mushy  in  that  way  myself,  and  I  can't 
stomach  them  that  are.  Whipple  is  going  to  leave  him 
all  he's  got,  and  I  want  Fred  to  get  all  he  can  of  the 
good  things  in  life,  but  I'll  be  dad-blamed  if  I  wanted 
'em  to  come  exactly  that  way. 

"Whipple  set  there  in  his  office  and  made  out  a  list 
of  his  possessions,  and  it  looked  to  me  like  he  was  making 
everything  look  as  big  as  he  could  out  of  pure  spite. 
Not  once  did  he  say — Toby,  he  didn't  say  a  single  time 
that  I  had  any  sort  of  justification  in  pinning  down  on 
the  boy  like  I  did.  He  might  have  done  it,  but  he  didn't. 
He  always  cocked  himself  up  and  talked  in  a  round 
about,  sneaking  fashion,  like  he  was  giving  underhanded 
digs.  Toby,  I  want  the  boy  back  here,  that's  all.  I 
want  him  back  here  in  the  bank  to  take  my  place  after 
I'm  gone.  I  don't  think  I  could  stand  it  to  be  beat  to 

291 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

a  cold,  dead  finish  by  that  old  chump  in  a  fight  of  ex 
actly  this  kind.  Whipple  said  Fred  could  sort  o'  play 
between  the  two  places — stay  awhile  here  and  awhile 
there,  but  I  want  to  tie  him  down  good  and  tight  to  old 
Stafford.  I've  got  an  idea  how  to  do  it,  Toby,  and  it 
ain't  a  bad  one." 

"What  is  it,  Mr.  Walton?"  the  clerk  asked,  eagerly. 

"Why,  Toby,  I  ain't  much  at  match-making,  but  I 
am  going  to  try  my  hand  at  the  game.  Now,  if  I  could 
only  persuade  Margaret  Bearing  to  be  sensible,  like 
most  women  always  have  been  in  regard  to  the  early 
slips  of  the  men  they  marry — if  I  could  persuade  her 
to  overlook  the  only  thing  that  now  remains  against 
the  boy — " 

"They  would  get  married,  and  both  would  prefer  to 
live  here!"  Toby  broke  in,  eagerly. 

"That's  the  point,  Toby,"  Walton  said.  "  You've  hit 
it.  Now  drive  me  home." 


CHAPTER     XVIII 

JNE  afternoon,  three  days  after  this, 
Simon  Walton  drove  down  the  street 
to  Bearing's,  and,  alighting  at  the  front 
gate,  he  carefully  haltered  his  horse  to 
the  hitching-post  with  a  rope  he  always 
carried  under  the  buggy-seat.  Then  he 
opened  the  gate  and  trudged  up  the  walk  to  the  door. 

Margaret  saw  him  from  the  window  of  her  room  up 
stairs,  and,  thinking  that  he  had  called  to  see  her  uncle 
or  her  brother,  she  hurried  down-stairs. 

"Did  you  want  to  see  my  uncle?"  she  asked,  sweetly. 

"No,  I  didn't,  Miss  Margaret."     Walton  had  taken 

off  his  broad-brimmed  felt  hat,  and  stood  shifting  it 

awkwardly  from  one  hand  to  the  other,  a  look  at  once 

grave  and  agitated  on  his  gaunt  face. 

"Well,  my  brother  is  at  his  office,"  the  girl  threw  ten 
tatively  into  the  pause  that  had  ensued;  "at  least,  he 
said  he  was  going  there  when  he  left  here  about  two 
o'clock." 

"I  didn't  want  to  see  him,  either,"  and  the  old  man 
tried  to  smile,  but  the  effort  was  a  grim  failure.  "The 
truth  is,  Miss  Margaret,  if  I  may  make  so  bold,  I  wanted 
to  see  you.  There  is  a  little  matter  I  sort  o'  thought 
you  and  me  might  talk  over  maybe  to  mutual  gain  and 
profit." 

"You  want  to  see  me,  really?"  Margaret  started. 
"Well,  won't  you  come  in?" 

Walton  glanced  into  the  wide  hall  doubtfully  and 

293 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

fanned  himself  with  his  hat.  "I  don't  know;  it  must 
be  kind  o'  stuffy  inside  on  a  sweltering  day  like  this, 
ain't  it?"  he  said,  awkwardly.  "Ain't  there  a  place 
out  under  the  trees  somewhere  where  we  could  set  a 
minute?  I  was  here  one  day  with  the  General,  and 
round  that  way — "  Walton  nodded  his  shaggy  head  to 
the  right  and  broke  off  helplessly. 

"Oh  yes,  and  there  are  some  chairs  there,  too,"  Mar 
garet  answered.  She  was  now  quite  grave,  and  she  led 
the  way  with  a  certain  erectness  of  carriage  and  with 
an  air  of  restraint  that  was  visible  even  to  the  crude 
sensibilities  of  her  caller. 

The  chairs  under  the  trees  were  reached.  Walton 
seized  the  most  comfortable-looking  one,  and  for  no  ob 
vious  reason  settled  it  firmly  on  the  sod.  "  Now,"  he 
said,  and  with  bended  body  he  waited  for  her  to  take 
it.  When  she  had  complied,  he  took  a  seat  himself, 
dropping  his  hat  on  the  grass  beside  him,  only  to  re 
cover  it  without  delay,  that  it  might  rest  on  his  sharp, 
unsteady  knee.  He  looked  up  at  the  unclouded  sky, 
at  the  overhanging  boughs  of  the  big  oaks  under  which 
they  sat.  He  cleared  his  throat,  looked  at  Margaret, 
and  then  glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  the  roof  and 
gables  of  the  old  house. 

"You  said,  I  think,  that  you  came  to  see  me,"  Mar 
garet  reminded  him,  with  as  much  voice  as  she  could 
command,  for  all  sorts  of  bewildering  possibilities  were 
flitting  through  her  brain. 

"Yes,  I  did,  Miss  Margaret,"  he  said,  with  a  slight 
start.  "  If  you  was  a  man,  now,  I  think  we  could  get 
this  thing  over  with  in  a  short  time;  but  I  never  had 
much  dealings  with  women — that  is,  except  in  a  purely 
business  way.  I  can  tell  a  woman  she  is  over-checking, 
or  offering  me  bad  security,  or  needs  better  identifica 
tion  than  a  pair  of  bright  eyes  and  rosy  cheeks  will 
furnish;  but  this  thing  that's  riz  between  me  and  you 

294 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

is  plumb  different.  In  the  bank  they  come  to  me,  but 
in  this  case,  you  see,  I'm  the  supplicant.  Miss  Margaret, 
I've  come  to  see  you  about  my  boy — about  Fred." 

"Oh,  you  want  to  find  him,  and  you  think  that  per 
haps  I — "  She  went  no  further.  Her  first  impulsive 
thought  was  that  Walton  had  in  some  way  heard  of  her 
meeting  with  Fred  in  New  York  and  had  come  to  ob 
tain  information  as  to  his  address. 

"  Oh  no;  I  know  where  he  is  well  enough."  The  way 
seemed  easier  to  the  old  man  now,  and  he  went  on  rapid 
ly.  "  He  is  at  Gate  City,  Oklahoma,  Miss  Margaret. 
He  has  been  there  all  this  time,  and  is  doing  mighty 
well;  in  fact,  he  has  gone  and  got  rich.  You  know  the 
West  is  a  powerful  field  for  fresh,  young  blood  to  forge 
ahead  in,  and  Fred  struck  it  just  right.  He  is  a  partner 
in  a  whopping  big  wholesale  business  there.  He  has 
been  writing  to  me — that  is,  off  and  on.  There  was  a 
little  cash  difference  between  his  account  and  mine,  and 
he  finally  made  it  good  out  of  his  earnings.  I — I  never 
was  much  of  a  hand  to  talk  my  business,  you  know,  so 
I've  never  let  on  here  at  Stafford  exactly  how  he  was 
making  out,  but  a  time  has  come  when  I  want  to  set  him 
as  nigh  straight  as  possible  before  the  community  he  was 
born  and  raised  in;  in  fact,  I  want  him  to  come  home." 

"  Yes,  of  course."  Margaret's  cold,  pale  lips  formally 
dropped  the  words  as  her  visitor  paused  and  wiped  his 
perspiring  brow  and  fanned  himself  with  his  hat.. 

"Yes,  I've  just  been  out  there  to  sort  o'  settle  up  a 
little  deal  betwixt  me  and  the  man — twixt  me  and 
Fred's  business  partner,  and  I  must  say  the  whole  out 
look  was  good.  You  know  I  reckon  that  everybody  in 
this  town  sort  o'  thought  before  Fred  went  off  that  he 
never  would  amount  to  much  in  a  business  way,  but  he 
is  all  right  now.  So,  having  nothing  much  to  do  at  the 
bank  this  hot  day,  why,  I  thought  I'd  drive  up  here  and 
sec  you  about  it." 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"See  me  about  it?  I  really  don't  understand,"  the 
young  lady  faltered. 

"Well,  to  come  right  to  the  point,  Miss  Margaret"— 
Walton  avoided  her  wavering  glance  for  a  moment  as 
he  kicked  the  toe  of  his  boot  into  an  unoffending  tuft 
of  grass  and  fairly  uprooted  it — "  out  there  in  Gate  City 
one  night  me  and  Fred  had  a  sort  o'  confidential  talk 
about  old  times,  and  one  thing  or  other,  and  finally  he 
broke  down  and  told  me  how  much  attached  he  had 
always  been  to  you — never  had  cared  for  no  other  wom 
an,  nor  never  would  as  long  as  the  sun  shone  on  the 
earth,  and  other  things  to  that  effect." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Walton,  please  don't!"  Margaret  cried  out; 
but  there  was  a  glow  of  irrepressible  delight  rising  in 
her  face,  and  her  beautiful  eyes  were  sparkling.  "  I 
don't  think  I  want  to  talk  about  it." 

"I  have  to,"  the  banker  insisted,  firmly.  "I  want 
him  back  here,  Miss  Margaret;  and,  as  it  stands  now,  I'm 
afraid  he  never  will  come  unless  you  yield  a  point  or 
two.  He  said  his  one  and  only  spur  to  making  a  man 
of  himself  had  been  the  hope  that — seeing  that  you 
hadn't  yet  chosen  a  partner — that  you  might  some  day 
or  other  consider  his  proposal.  He  says,  though,  that 
he  met  you  in  New  York,  awhile  back,  and  that  you  de 
liberately  turned  him  down.  He  said  he  couldn't  blame 
you,  after  all  that  had  happened,  but  he  couldn't  help 
thinking  that  maybe  it  would  be  as  well  for  him  never 
to  come  nigh  you  again.  That  was  the  way,  I  say, 
that  he  looked  at  it,  blue  and  down-in-the-mouth,  as  the 
poor  fellow  was  during  our  confab;  but  I  threw  out  a 
straw  to  him,  so  I  did,  Miss  Margaret.  I  cited  numbers 
and  numbers  of  cases  where  young  men  had  eventually 
lived  down  early  mistakes,  and  finally  been  reinstated, 
to  become,  in  the  end,  an  honor  to  the  land  of  their  birth. 
He  didn't  think,  after  the  way  you  acted  in  New  York, 
that  there  was  any  chance  for  him  at  all,  but,  being 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

anxious  to  make  headway,  I  told  him  I  was  sure  you 
was  too  much  of  a  Christian  at  heart  to  refuse  a  request 
like  his,  offered  in  the  spirit  it  is  offered  in.  He's  sorry 
for  many  things  that's  he  done,  and  wants  to  wipe  'em 
out." 

Old  Walton's  eyes  shifted  almost  significantly  from 
her  face  to  the  low  roof  of  Mrs.  Barry's  cottage,  and 
instinctively  Margaret's  glance  followed;  then,  becom 
ing  conscious  of  the  fact,  she  quickly  looked  down,  and 
a  tinge  of  color  climbed  into  her  pale  cheeks. 

"  I  think  we'd  better  not  say  any  more  about  that, 
Mr.  Walton,"  she  said,  more  firmly  than  she  had  spoken 
since  his  arrival.  "  I  am  sure  your  son  understands  how 
I  feel." 

"That  means  a  flat  no,  then,"  the  banker  said,  and 
with  a  heavy  sigh  he  slowly  stood  up.  "  Well,  I've  plead 
his  case  as  well  as  I  know  how,  but  I  hain't  yet  touched 
on  mine.  Miss  Margaret,  you  could  do  me  a  big,  lasting 
favor  if  you'd  let  this  thing  go  through.  I'm  a  plain 
man.  Folks  hain't  never  said  I  was  much  of  a  hand  to 
show  affection,  and  they  are  right,  I  reckon;  but  the 
way  matters  stand  now  is  getting  me  down,  and  if  you 
don't  extend  a  helping  hand  I'm  afraid  I'll  feel  bad 
the  rest  of  my  life.  It  ain't  just  Fred  that's  concerned — 
it's  me — me!  As  long  as  a  father  can  make  himself  be 
lieve  he  is  treating  his  son  justly,  he  can  hold  his  head 
up  and  meet  the  eye  of  the  world ;  but,  if  the  truth  must 
be  told,  I  reckon  I  didn't  give  Fred  a  good  enough  show. 
I  driv'  him  off,  with  threats  of  the  law,  and  away  off  in 
a  strange  land,  under  a  new  name,  he  forged  ahead.  He 
made  friends  by  the  stack,  and  the  old  man — his  partner 
that  I  told  you  about — loves  him  like  he  was  his  own; 
in  fact,  he  calls  him  his  'adopted  son.'  Think  of  that! 
The  only  child  the  Lord  ever  give  me  is  now  claimed  by 
a  blamed  old  cuss  that  understood  him  better  than  I 
ever  did!  He  has  willed  him  all  he's  got,  and  he's  got 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

plenty,  too — a  sight  more  than  I'll  ever  have  if  I  keep 
on  till  the  end  of  the  chapter.  I  want  to  hold  my  own, 
Miss  Margaret.  I  hain't  never  been  clean  beat  yet, 
and  this,  somehow,  would  be  the  worst  fall  I  ever  had. 
I  just  can't  stomach  the  idea!  I  want  my  boy  to  love 
me,  and  lean  on  me,  and  not  on  a  fat,  pudgy  old  idiot 
that  never  had  a  thing  to  do  with  his  baby  days.  I 
want  that  worse  than  I  ever  wanted  anything,  and  I 
don't  see  how  I'm  going  to  get  it  if  you  don't  help  a 
little.  If  your  pride  won't  let  you  do  it  for  him,  maybe 
it  will  for  an  old  chap  like  me,  that  is  begging  for  one 
more  throw  of  the  dice.  I  simply  want  him  back,  and 
he  won't  come  unless  you  will  let  bygones  be  bygones." 

He  paused.  Something  very  much  like  strong  emo 
tion  was  in  his  whole  dejected  attitude  as  he  stood  bowed 
before  her.  She  started  to  speak,  but  stopped,  clasping 
her  delicate  hands  undecidedly  in  front  of  her.  She 
stood  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  she  said,  softly : 

"I  see;  it  is  hard  on  you.  It  is  a  pity  you  have  to 
suffer  on  account  of  it." 

"Promise  me  this,  Miss  Margaret."  Old  Walton  lean 
ed  forward  eagerly.  "Promise  that  you  will  think  it 
over  for  a  day  or  so.  It  ain't  a  thing,  anyway,  to  be 
decided  in  a  second,  like  buying  a  hat  or  a  pair  of  gloves 
of  such  and  such  a  color  or  material.  If  you  have  to 
go  plumb  against  the  boy,  do  it  after  mature  delibera 
tion.  Won't  you  study  over  it  a  day  or  two?" 

"Yes,  I  can  promise  that,"  Margaret  consented.  "I'll 
stop  in  at  the  bank  and  see  you  soon." 

"Well,  that's  all  a  body  could  ask,"  Walton  said, 
gratefully;  and,  bowing  low,  he  trudged  across  the  grass 
to  his  horse  and  buggy. 


CHAPTER     XIX 

[HEN  he  had  disappeared  down  the 
street,  Margaret  sat  staring  at  the 
ground,  her  color  still  high,  her  eyes 
holding  a  delicate,  spiritual  effulgence, 
her  breast  rising  and  falling  under  stress 
of  fiercely  contending  impulses. 

"It  would  be  my  Christian  duty  to  forgive,"  she  ar 
gued.  "I  know  he  has  repented,  and  he  couldn't  have 
been  wholly  to  blame.  His  grosser  nature  was  tempted. 
He  fell,  but  he  loved  me  in  a  different  way.  He  loves 
me  still,  or  he  wouldn't  want  me  now.  He  showed  it 
in  New  York.  He  has  suffered  enough,  and  I  ought  to 
take  him  back.  But  can  I  ?  Can  I  ?  How  could  I  for 
get,  with  her  and  his  child  right  under  my  eyes?  Per 
haps,  if  I  went  to  see  her,  that  might  help  me  decide. 
I  ought  to  have  gone,  anyway.  She  really  has  had  a 
hard  life." 

With  her  hand  on  her  breast,  as  though  the  thought 
had  given  her  actual  physical  pain,  she  bowed  for  a  few 
minutes;  then  she  calmly  rose,  fastened  the  strings  of 
her  graceful  hat  under  her  pretty  chin,  and  walked  de 
liberately  down  to  Mrs.  Barry's.  Lionel  was  playing 
with  some  colored  building-blocks  on  the  porch,  and 
looked  up  in  vast  surprise. 

"Where  is  your  mother?"  Margaret  asked,  timidly. 
"May  I  see  her?" 

" She  is  in  the  studio,"  the  child  said.  "She  is  making 
a  picture." 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

At  this  moment  Dora  stepped  out  into  the  hall  from 
a  room  on  the  right,  and  with  a  look  of  undisguised  and 
almost  perturbed  surprise  she  came  forward. 

"Oh,  she  is  beautiful — beautiful!"  ran  like  a  dart 
through  the  visitor's  brain.  "She  is  a  thousand  times 
more  ro  than  she  used  to  be;  she  has  grown,  developed. 
Such  hair,  such  eyes,  such  color,  such  a  perfect  figure!" 

"I  think  I  heard  you  asking  for  me,"  Dora  said, 
calmly,  something — perhaps  it  was  the  sheer  immunity 
of  genius  and  conscious  purity  of  purpose — lifting  her 
above  the  embarrassment  of  the  situation. 

"Yes,  I  came  to  see  you,"  Margaret  said,  bewildered 
by  Dora's  appearance  and  the  growing  sense  of  her 
wonderful  and  forceful  personality.  "I  ought  to  have 
come  before,  I  am  well  aware ;  but  I  hope  you  won't  turn 
me  away." 

"Why  should  I,  Margaret?"  Even  in  the  unruffled 
voice  of  the  recluse  there  was  a  mellow  hint  of  oblivion 
to  the  social  degradation  the  outside  world  had  draped 
her  with.  "Would  you  mind  coming  into  my  work 
room?  It  is  about  as  cheerful  as  our  stuffy  little  par 
lor." 

"Oh,  you  still  paint?"  Margaret  cried,  as  she  stood  in 
the  doorway  and  saw  the  pictures  leaning  here  and  there 
and  tacked  to  the  wooden  partition. 

"Yes,  I  had  to  have  some  occupation,"  Dora  respond 
ed,  quite  frankly,  "and  I  took  it  up.  I  think  I  should 
have  died  but  for  my  art." 

"And  did  you  really  do  all  these?"  Margaret  stared 
in  admiration.  "Oh,  they  are  lovely,  lovely!" 

"I'm  glad  you  like  them,"  Dora  said,  appreciatively. 
"  I  am  sorry  I  happen  to  have  only  these.  Just  last 
week  I  sent  a  box  of  the  best  away.  I  may  as  well  tell 
you  that  I  sell  them — or,  rather,  have  them  sold  for  me." 

"Oh,  you  do,  really?  How  nice! — how  very  nice!" 
Margaret  sat  down  almost  in  utter  bewilderment.  The 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

whole  thing  was  like  a  dream — the  wonderful  intel 
lectual  poise  of  the  girl-like  artist;  her  beauty;  her 
charm;  the  far-away  look  of  almost  conscious  superior 
ity  in  the  long-lashed,  indescribable  eyes.  "And  you 
intend  to  go  on  with  your  art?" 

"Oh  yes,  to  the  end — to  the  very  end  of  life,  and 
beyond,  too,  perhaps,"  answered  Dora,  with  a  merry, 
philosophical  laugh.  "  I  am  working  toward  a  glorious 
goal.  Far-off  Paris  beckons  me,  Margaret,  even  in  my 
sleep.  Mother  and  I  read  of  nothing  else  now,  and  think 
of  nothing  else.  We  study  French  in  our  poor  way,  and 
speak  it  together.  Even  Lionel  lisps  a  word  of  it  now 
and  then.  Yes,  Paris  and  my  boy  mean  all  to  me  now. 
This  has  been  a  prison  for  our  little  family,  but  there 
the  breath  of  art  animates  all  life.  The  people  are  not 
narrow;  they  rank  essential  purity  above  the  sordid 
hypocrisy  of  mere  convention.  There  my  boy  might 
grow  up  unconscious  of — but  you  know  what  I  mean." 

"Yes,  yes,"  Margaret  said,  a  vast  womanly  sympathy 
springing  up  within  her  that  fairly  swept  her  from  the 
condemnatory  position  she  had  so  long  held. 

"  And  we  hope  to  manage  it  very  soon  now,"  the  artist 
continued.  "  We  are  hoarding  up  my  earnings  for  that, 
and  nothing  else.  Lionel  has  the  soul  of  a  poet,  artist, 
or  musician,  and  in  Paris  he  can  grow  and  expand,  and 
there — there  he  will  not  have  to  face  what  would  in 
evitably  be  his  portion  if  he  remained  here.  His  mis 
fortune,  if  it  can  be  called  that,  was  not  of  his  making, 
and  God  will  help  me  to  wipe  it  out  of  his  consciousness 
—to  blot  it  from  his  fair  young  soul." 

"Yes,  yes,"  Margaret  said,  helplessly,  and  she  rose  to 
go.  There  was  nothing  she  could  say.  Dora,  in  some 
unaccountable  way,  seemed  beyond  her  mental  reach, 
a  glorious,  sublimated  creature  more  of  spirit  than  of 
matter.  The  things  she  had  striven  for  in  her  solitude 
had  raised  her  higher  than  her  surroundings.  From  a 

101 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

narrow  point  of  view  she  had  lost,  from  a  higher  and 
broader  she  had  gained ;  she  was  the  youthful  forerunner 
of  a  future  army  of  women  who  would  be  judged  by  the 
radiance  of  their  souls  rather  than  by  the  shadows  of 
their  bodies. 

Dora  seemed  to  feel  her  sudden  nearness  in  spirit  to 
her  old  friend.  For  a  moment  she  was  silent.  There 
was  a  clatter  of  blocks  on  the  floor  of  the  porch,  followed 
by  the  soft  click-click  of  the  pieces  of  wood  as  the  child 
put  them  together  again  from  the  heap  into  which  they 
had  fallen. 

"  I  have  always  wanted  to  have  a  good,  long  talk  with 
you  about  Fred,"  Dora  suddenly  began,  "but  I  hardly 
knew  how  to  propose  it  to  you  after — at  least,  after  he 
went  away  so  suddenly.  I  felt  that  I  ought  to  see  you 
personally,  and  yet  my  pride  would  not  let  me.  He 
had  his  faults,  Margaret,  but  there  were  many  beautiful 
things  in  his  character." 

"  I  know,  I  know."  Margaret's  heart  fairly  froze, 
and  she  stared  coldly  and  held  herself  quite  erect.  Was 
it  possible  that  the  woman  would  dare  to  intimate  that 
she  cared  to  hear  about  that  shameful  intimacy  ?  Had 
her  ideas  of  art,  her  dreams  of  France  and  bohemian 
freedom  from  conventional  laws,  led  her  into  the  error 
of  thinking  that  she,  Margaret  Dearing,  would  for  a  mo 
ment  listen  to  such  a  confidence  ?" 

"Only  to-day  I  received  a  long  letter  from  him," 
Dora  went  on,  unobservant  of  the  change  that  had 
come  over  her  visitor.  "  Let  me  get  it.  I  am  sure  you 
will  think  more  kindly  of  him  when  you  have  read 
what  he  writes.  His  father  has  been  out  to  see  him, 
and  they  are  quite  reconciled  now.  It  has  made  Fred 
very  happy.  You  see,  there  is  no  reason  now  why  he 
may  not  come  home.  I  want  you  to  see  the  letter,  for 
he  mentions  you  in  it,  and  I  am  sure,  seeing  how  sweet 
and  kind  you  are  to  me,  that — " 

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THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"I  don't  care  to  see  it!"  Margaret  broke  in,  frigidly. 
"  Please  don't  ask  me.  I  am  just  going.  I  only  had  a 
few  moments.  I  thank  you  very  much  for  showing  me 
your  pictures." 

Dora  dropped  her  eyes  in  surprise,  for  the  gaze  of  her 
haughty  visitor  was  full  of  undisguised  anger. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  offend  you,"  she  said,  humbly, 
"  and  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me.  I  was  only  trying  to 
do  Fred  a  good  turn,  and  I  suppose  I  did  it  awkwardly. 
It  is  very  good  of  you  to  come.  Good-bye." 

"Good-bye."  And  Margaret  swept  from  the  room. 
As  she  crossed  the  porch  and  passed  the  little  architect 
of  a  church  of  no  mean  design,  he  raised  his  eyes  and 
said: 

"Look,  lady;  that  is  the  tower  for  the  big  bell  (ding- 
dong  !) ,  and  this  is  the  door —  But  she  paid  no  heed  to 
him,  as,  with  a  shrug,  almost  of  disdain,  she  passed  on 
to  the  gate. 

"  He  is  writing  to  her ;  he  has  been  writing  to  her  all 
these  years,"  she  said  within  herself.  "Perhaps  he  has 
even  met  her — she  may  have  been  to  see  him  in  other 
places.  That  is  why  she's  lived  so  quietly — it  gave  her 
the  chance  to  go  and  come  as  she  liked.  Perhaps  he 
has  put  those  ideas  of  Paris  and  free-love  into  her  head. 
When  he  talked  to  me  in  New  York  he  didn't  mean  that 
—that  he  cared  for  me  deeply.  He  meant  only  that  he 
wanted  me  and  the  rest  of  us  here  to  overlook  what 
he  had  done.  When  he  told  his  silly  old  father  that  he 
would  not  come  back  unless  I  forgave  him,  he  meant — he 
thought — he  was  trying  to  apologize — actually  apologize 
— for  having  made  love  to  me.  I  have  lowered  myself 
by  going  to  her.  It  gave  her  that  sly  chance  to  stab  me. 
She  thinks  I  care.  She  thinks  that  I  have  been  crying 
my  eyes  out  about  him.  They  have  talked  me  over 
time  after  time.  Oh,  the  shame  of  it — the  utter  shame 
of  it!" 


CHAPTER    XX 

JARGARET  BEARING  passed  a  rest 
less,  tumultuous  night  following  the  dis 
turbing  visit  to  Dora.  In  the  evening 
she  had  joined  her  uncle  at  a  game 
of  whist  in  a  nervous,  abstracted  way; 
she  had  played  the  piano  in  a  spiritless 
fashion  for  her  brother,  who  had  come  in  tired  from  a 
long  drive  into  the  country,  where  he  had  performed  a 
successful  surgical  operation;  and  then  she  had  gone  up 
to  her  bedchamber  and  thrown  off  the  mask.  She  kept 
it  off,  for  there  was  only  the  starlight  to  witness  her 
white,  blank  face  and  piteously  staring  eyes  as  she  sat 
at  her  window  looking  out.  From  the  stretch  of  dark 
ness  below  only  one  salient  feature  presented  itself:  it 
was  the  steadily  burning  light  in  Dora  Barry's  window. 
In  her  fancy  Margaret  saw  the  beautiful  young  mother 
bending  over  a  table  writing — writing  to  Fred  Walton 
in  answer  to  the  last  letter  he  had  written.  She  rose 
suddenly,  exasperated  beyond  endurance,  and  threw 
herself  on  her  bed. 

She  rose  late  the  next  morning  and  breakfasted  in  the 
big,  sombre  dining-room  after  the  General  and  Wynn 
had  gone  to  town.  The  servant  said  something  she 
hardly  heard,  to  the  effect  that  Wynn  had  received  a 
letter  which  called  him  to  Augusta,  and  that  he  might 
be  absent  for  several  days.  Breakfast  over,  Margaret 
strolled  down  to  a  favorite  seat  of  hers  on  the  lawn. 
Why  was  it,  she  asked  herself,  with  poignant  chagrin, 

304 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

that  she  welcomed  the  position  as  putting  her  into  the 
full  view  of  any  one  chancing  to  look  from  Dora  Barry's 
cottage?  Had  she  been  very  subtle  in  self-analysis 
and  very  frank  touching  her  own  desires,  she  would 
have  admitted  the  subtle  suggestion  of  her  attitude,  her 
apparent  absorption  in  the  magazine  that  she  held  in 
hand;  must  it  not  convey  to  her  watching  neighbor  a 
conviction  that  the  conversation  of  the  afternoon  just 
passed  had  been  of  no  possible  moment  to  her — that  it 
had,  in  fact,  caused  no  ripple  in  the  even  current  of  her 
satisfied  existence. 

Indeed,  the  pages  of  the  magazine  were  held  so  firm 
ly  before  her  unshifting  eyes  that  she  failed  to  notice 
that  Lionel  had  crossed  over  the  fence  and  was  coming 
toward  her  holding  an  envelope  in  his  little  hand.  He 
was  dressed  in  a  becoming  gray  suit,  and  his  yellow, 
carefully  brushed  tresses  caught  the  morning  sunlight 
till  they  seemed  a  mass  of  delicate  golden  flames.  The 
grass  he  daintily  trod  was  wet  with  dew,  and  opalescent 
jewels  seemed  to  blaze  and  fall  at  his  feet.  Margaret 
saw  him  from  the  corner  of  her  eye  as  he  timidly  paused 
near  her,  and  yet  she  did  not  at  first  deign  to  look  up. 
The  grim  thought  fastened  itself  on  her  distorted  imag 
ination  that  Dora  was  now  watching,  if  at  no  other 
moment,  so  she  lowered  the  magazine  to  her  lap,  taking 
studied  care  to  turn  down  a  leaf  before  glancing  at  the 
child. 

"My  mother  sent  this  note,"  Lionel  said,  when  he 
caught  her  eye. 

She  took  the  envelope  and  opened  it.  It  contained 
two  separate  communications.  The  first  was  to  her 
from  Dora.  The  other  was  in  Fred  Walton's  well-re 
membered  hand.  Dora's  note  ran: 

DEAR  MARGARET, — I  want  you  to  do  poor  Fred  the  sim 
ple  justice  of  reading  his  letter  to  me.  I  saw  yesterday 

305 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

that  you  were  angered  by  my  mentioning  him,  and  I  don't 
believe  you  could  have  been  so  if  you  had  the  faith  in 
him  which  he  deserves.  You  may  doubt  him,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  but  I  am  sure  you  could  do  so  no  longer 
if  you  would  only  read  the  tender  things  he  has  written 
about  you.  Sincerely,  DORA  BARRY. 

Margaret  read  and  reread  the  note.  Her  prejudice 
was  still  playing  riot  with  her  better  judgment,  and,  feel 
ing  sure  that  Dora's  eyes  were  on  her,  she  scornfully 
swept  both  the  communications  from  her  lap  to  the 
grass  at  her  feet  and  turned  to  her  magazine. 

Lionel  stared,  a  pained  expression  slowly  capturing 
his  mobile  features  as  he  stood  in  rigid  indecision  for  a 
moment;  then,  with  a  sigh,  he  stooped  down  and  picked 
up  the  sheets  of  paper  which  were  being  blown  about 
on  the  grass.  The  first  page  of  Fred  Walton's  letter 
to  Dora  was  the  last  he  secured,  and,  just  as  he  was  pick 
ing  it  up,  Margaret,  almost  against  her  will,  dropped  her 
glance  upon  it,  reading  the  introductory  line  at  the  top 
of  the  sheet. 

"My  dear  old  friend,"  she  saw  quite  plainly,  in  Fred's 
bold  writing,  "You  will  be  surprised  to  hear  from  me 
for  the  first  time  after  all  these  years — " 

"Old  friend — after  all  these  years!"  Those  words,  so 
contradictory  to  what  she  expected,  remained  before 
Margaret's  sight  even  after  the  child  had  gathered  the 
sheets  in  his  offended  arms  and  was  turning  away. 
What  could  they  mean?  Surely  that  was  not  the  way 
a  man  would  begin  a  letter  to  the  woman  he  had  be 
trayed  and  deserted.  There  must  be  some  mystery, 
and  the  child  was  bearing  its  solution  away.  Her  de 
sire  to  know  more  was  too  strong  to  be  resisted.  Im 
pulsively  she  cried  out : 

"Little  boy!  Lionel!  Wait!  Bring  them  back!  I 
dropped  them!"  He  turned,  a  look  of  mystification  on 
his  face,  and  came  back  doubtfully. 

306 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"I  haven't  read  them  yet,"  she  explained,  humbly 
enough,  and  she  extended  her  hand.  "Let  me  have 
them." 

"I  thought  you  were  angry,"  he  said,  staring  at  her. 
"  I  thought  you  didn't  want  my  mother's  letter." 

"I'll  read  them,"  she  promised,  tremblingly.  "Wait, 
won't  you?  That's  a  good  boy." 

He  stood  beside  her,  studiously  observant  of  the 
phenomenon  of  her  changeableness,  while  she  literally 
devoured  Fred  Walton's  letter.  It  ran: 

MY  DEAR  OLD  FRIEND, — You  will  be  surprised  to  hear  from 
me  for  the  first  time  after  all  these  years,  and  I  have  no 
valid  excuse  to  offer.  You  may  or  may  not  have  received 
the  letter  I  wrote  you  telling  you  that  I  was  leaving  old 
Stafford  forever.  My  bad  conduct  had  driven  my  father 
to  desperation,  and  I  had  grave  reasons  to  believe  that  he 
would  actually  enforce  the  law  against  me.  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf  and  fight  it  out  on  new 
lines  at  home,  when  the  last  straw  came  to  break  my  pur 
pose.  Dear  Dora,  her  brother  Wynn  approached  me  that 
very  night  and  told  me  that  her  uncle  intended  positively 
to  disinherit  her  if  she  kept  faith  in  me.  What  was  there 
for  me  to  do  ?  God  knows  I  was  unworthy  of  her,  and  the 
next  morning  was  to  bring  things  to  light  which  would 
make  her  despise  me;  so  I  promised  him  then  and  there 
to  go  away  and  never  communicate  with  her  again.  No 
human  being  ever  suffered  more  keenly  than  I  did  at  losing 
her,  but  I  determined  to  fight  my  way  to  reformation,  and 
by  my  own  toil  to  restore  to  my  father  the  funds  I  had  mis 
appropriated.  After  years  of  strife  and  hardship  I  have 
done  it,  and  he  has  fully  forgiven  me.  He  has  forgiven 
me  and  wants  me  to  come  home.  Home!  Just  think  of 
it!  To  me  old  Stafford  would  be  a  heaven  on  earth.  I 
think  I  could  fall  face  downward  in  the  dear  old  streets 
and  kiss  the  very  pavement.  But  I  may  not  come  yet. 
Somehow  I  can't,  Dora.  I  believe  most  of  the  old  town 
will  forgive  me,  but  she  won't.  I  know  she  won't.  Her 
ideas  of  honor  are  too  high  for  that.  The  reason  I  am  so 

307 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

sure  is  that  I  met  her  by  chance  in  New  York  not  long 
ago,  and  she  gave  me  clearly  to  understand  that  I  need  never 
expect  to  regain  her  respect.  I  made  my  own  case  out 
pretty  black  to  her  brother,  and  I  suppose  he  gave  me  my 
full  dues  in  telling  her  about  it.  To  my  astonishment,  my 
father  told  me  that  he  had  not  spoken  of  my  shortage  at 
the  bank,  and  that  nothing  had  been  said  about  it  at  home, 
but  her  brother  told  her.  She  got  the  confession  straight 
from  me,  and  there  could  be  no  better  authority.  I  love 
her  still,  dear  Dora,  and  more  than  ever.  The  very  gulf 
between  her  and  me  has  only  made  her  the  dearer. 

But  I  mustn't  write  so  much  about  myself.  My  father 
says  you  are  still  unmarried.  He  couldn't  tell  me  whether 
you  had  carried  your  painting  further.  I  was  sure  it  would 
do  great  things  for  you,  and  it  is  not  too  late,  even  yet. 

Another  thing — I  have  always  felt  that  I  may  have  hurt 
your  feelings  past  forgiveness  by  advising  you  as  I  did  in 
that  last  letter  not  to  trust  too  fully  the  man  whom  I  men 
tioned.  I  now  see  that  I  had  no  right  to  go  so  far.  You 
were  hardly  more  than  a  child  then,  but  you  knew  how  to 
take  care  of  yourself  even  with  a  man  of  the  world  like  him, 
and  I  had  no  right  to  warn  you.  But  I  was  going  away, 
dear  Dora,  and  I  was  so  miserable  about  myself  that  I 
exaggerated  your  danger.  I  have  seen  by  the  papers  that 
he  has  made  a  great  success  in  life,  and  that  old  Stafford 
is  very  proud  of  him — 

Margaret  folded  the  letter  in  her  lap  and  sat  aflame 
with  joy,  staring  with  glowing  eyes  at  the  vacant  air. 

"Do  you  like  it?     Is  it  nice,  lady?"  the  child  asked. 

"Yes,  very  nice,  and  I  thank  you,"  she  answered. 
The  child  said  something,  but  she  did  not  hear  it.  The 
pent-up  ecstasy  within  her  was  like  physical  pain;  she 
could  have  screamed  to  give  it  an  outlet.  She  felt  a 
womanly  yearning  to  embrace  the  boy,  and  would  have 
opened  her  arms  to  him  had  she  not  heard  steps  behind 
her.  Looking  over  her  shoulder,  she  saw  Kenneth  Gait 
approaching. 

308 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  I  dropped  in  at  the  front  to  see  you,"  he  said,  with  a 
bow.  "They  told  me  you  were  out  here."  His  eyes 
fell  on  the  child,  and  a  strange  flare  of  inexpressible  ten 
derness  lighted  his  lack-lustre  eyes  as  he  drew  a  chair 
forward  and  sat  down. 

"  Yes,  I  like  it  here,"  she  intoned,  and  her  voice,  in 
her  own  ears,  sounded  far  off,  and  as  if  it  had  taken  on 
the  timbre  of  a  new  and  exalted  existence.  She  half 
feared  that  Gait  would  note  it. 

"You  seem  happy,"  he  said,  thoughtfully,  "and  that 
is  a  condition  that  is  most  rare  with  humankind.  I  cer 
tainly  envy  a  happy  individual." 

"Yes,  I  am  very  happy,"  she  said — "more  so  than  I 
ever  was  in  my  life  before." 

"  I  certainly  envy  you,"  he  repeated,  gloomily.  "  I 
have  given  up  all  hope  of  even  touching  the  hem  of  the 
good  dame's  garment."  The  boy  had  gone  to  him,  and 
stood  with  his  little  hand  on  his  father's  knee,  looking 
with  trustful  adoration  into  the  dark,  saturnine  face 
above  him.  Something  in  the  child's  profile,  now  that 
Margaret  held  the  glass  of  revelation  to  her  eyes,  showed 
kinship  to  its  paternal  prototype,  and  a  dazzling  dart  of 
conviction  flashed  through  her.  At  that  instant  she 
had  a  motherly  instinct  to  draw  the  child  from  the  con 
taminating  touch  of  the  man  who  had  disowned  it. 
His  attitude  of  denial  was  a  desecration  to  the  holiness 
of  parenthood,  and  in  her  soul  she  resented  it. 

"Come  to  me,  Lionel,"  she  said,  gently.  "I  want 
you  to  kiss  me.  Won't  you,  just  once?" 

The  child  stared  as  if  scarcely  believing  that  he  had 
heard  aright. 

"What  did  you  say,  lady?"  he  asked,  as  he  lingered 
hesitatingly. 

She  repeated  her  words  more  tenderly  than  before, 
and  there  was  a  mist  before  her  sight  as  he  came  toward 
her. 

309 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Do  you  like  me  now?"  he  asked,  wonderingly. 

"Yes,  and  love  you  very,  very  much,"  she  answered, 
huskily. 

"  But  you  didn't  ever  so  long  at  -first;  you  didn't  yes 
terday,  when  I  asked  you  to  see  my  church.  You  didn't 
just  this  minute,  when  I  brought  my  mother's  letter." 

"But  I  do  now,  ever  and  ever  so  much,"  she  said, 
adopting  his  tone,  and,  taking  him  into  her  arms,  she 
pressed  him  passionately  to  her  breast  and  kissed  him 
on  his  brow,  on  his  cheeks,  and  on  his  red  lips.  Then, 
holding  him  in  her  arms,  and  with  no  word  of  explana 
tion  to  Gait,  she  rose.  "Put  your  arms  close  around 
my  neck,"  she  said,  "  and  hug  me  tight.  I  am  going  to 
run  over  and  see  your  mother." 

The  child  complied,  timidly,  a  delicate  flush  of  appre 
ciation  on  his  mobile  face.  Then  she  put  him  down, 
and,  still  not  looking  at  Gait,  she  said: 

"No,  you  needn't  come,  Lionel;  I'll  only  be  there  a 
minute  to  return  the  letter.  You  may  stay  here  and 
entertain  your — your  good  friend." 

Gait,  who  had  risen,  stood  looking  after  her  for  a 
moment,  his  countenance  dark  with  the  ever-constant 
despair  within  him.  He  felt  the  tiny,  confident  hands 
of  his  child  as  they  pressed  against  his  legs,  and  looked 
down  into  the  sweetly  smiling,  upturned  face. 

"They  all  like  me  now,"  Lionel  said.  "She  was  the 
only  one  that  didn't,  but  she  says  she  does  now .  She 
kissed  me.  Did  you  see  her?  Oh,  she's  so  pretty! 
She  is — no,  she  isn't,  but  she  is  nearly  as  pretty  as  my 
mother." 

Gait  sat  down  and  drew  the  boy  first  to  a  seat  on  his 
knee  and  then  into  his  arms. 

"She  knows  the  truth,"  he  said  to  himself,  in  a  tone 
of  desperate  indifference  to  fate.  "  Something  in  that 
letter  told  her." 


CHAPTER    XXI 

she  passed  through  the  gate  at  the 
end  of  the  lawn,  Margaret  looked  back 
and  saw  the  child  and  its  father  seated 

'A 

together. 

"  Yes,  he  is  the  one,"  she  mused. 
"  ^e  °^  a^  men-  And  yet  I  might  have 
known  it;  he  has  adored  the  child  since  the  moment 
he  first  saw  it  there  on  the  lawn." 

Dora  saw  her  coming  from  her  easel  near  the  window 
of  her  studio,  and  stood  in  the  hall  awaiting  her.  Her 
face  was  aglow  with  expectation. 

Without  any  word  of  greeting  Margaret  simply  ran 
to  her  and  threw  her  arms  about  her  neck.  "Oh,  you 
are  so  good,  so  noble!"  she  cried.  "  I  see  it  all  now,  and 
I  have  been  wofully  wrong.  Oh,  Dora,  I  could  not  have 
treated  you  as  I  have  all  these  miserable  years  if  I  had 
not  thought — I  actually  thought — " 

"  I  know  now  what  you  thought,"  Dora  broke  in,  a 
pained  expression  clutching  her  lips,  as  she  drew  Mar 
garet  into  the  studio.  "  I  don't  know  why  I  did  not 
think  of  it  sooner,  but  I  didn't.  Away  back  when  my 
trouble  was  blackest  I  heard  that  Fred's  name  had  been 
coupled  with  mine.  I  denied  it  then,  and  thought  that 
was  the  end  of  it.  After  that,  you  see,"  she  went  on, 
with  a  shudder  of  repugnance  to  the  topic,  "I  buried 
myself  here  so  completely  that  no  outside  gossip  reached 
my  ears.  I  had  to  guard  my  own  secret,  and  I  was 
afraid  that  even  the  slightest  agitation  of  the  matter 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

might  disclose  the  truth.  I — I  would  have  died  rather 
than  have  had  it  known — all  of  it,  I  mean." 

"And  yet  you  sent  me  this  letter?"  Margaret  laid 
it  on  a  table  and  stood  staring  gratefully  into  the  beau 
tiful  face.  "  You  sent  it,  although  you  knew  that  it 
might — at  least — lead  me  to — to  wonder  who — 

"Yes,  I  had  to  do  it,"  the  young  artist  interrupted, 
her  glance  averted.  "  I  could  not  bear  to  have  you  think 
Fred  was  anything  but  noble  and  true  and  good.  Mar 
garet,  I  cried  for  joy  over  the  fine  news  in  his  letter.  I 
couldn't  believe  you  had  snubbed  the  poor  boy  in  New 
York  for  nothing.  I  was  puzzled  for  a  while,  and  then 
the  horrible  truth  dawned  on  me.  I  hope  he  will  never 
learn  that  he  was  so  terribly  misjudged.  It  would  hurt 
him  more  than  all  else  that  has  happened  to  him.  They 
said  he  was  bad,  Margaret — wild,  and  a  gambler,  and 
all  that;  but  to  me  he  was  like  a  sweet,  thoughtful 
brother.  If  I'd  only  listened  to  his  advice,  I'd  never 
have  been  situated  like  this;  but  I  didn't.  I  thought 
I  was  very  wise  then.  I  have  Lionel  now,  of  course. 
He  seemed  to  come  to  me  like  an  angel  of  light  out  of 
a  black  sky  of  infinite  pain.  But  if  God  will  only  show 
me  a  way  to  save  him  from  future  trouble,  I — I — 

"There,  I  have  made  you  cry!"  Margaret  exclaimed, 
regretfully.  "  I  am  so  sorry!" 

"I  don't  give  way  often."  Dora  brushed  the  tears 
from  her  eyes.  "  It  is  only  when  I  think  of  what  may 
come  to  my  little  darling.  Perhaps  we  shall  get  to 
Paris  before  he  is  old  enough  to  understand,  and  then 
all  this  will  fade  from  his  childish  memory." 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  must  go  to  Paris,"  Margaret  said.  "  I 
have  more  money  than  I  need.  Dora,  surely  you  would 
not  refuse  to  let  me — 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no!"  Dora  cried  out.  "I  couldn't  think 
of  it.  What  is  done  must  be  done  by  me,  by  my  brain, 
and  by  my  hands.  God  will  surely  let  me  atone  in  that 

312 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

way  for  my  mistake.  It  is  what  I  have  prayed  for  night 
and  day  all  these  years,  and  the  reward  surely  can't  be 
far  off."  She  forced  a  wan  smile  to  her  rigid  face,  and 
added:  "  Then,  '  like  the  Arabs,  some  night  we'll  fold  our 
tents  and  silently  steal  away'  from  old  Stafford.  Only 
the  grocer-boy  and  the  postman  will  know,  at  first,  and 
then  the  last  chapter  of  our  life  here  will  be  written.  It 
seems  sad,  doesn't  it? — but  it  is  sweet,  so  very,  very 
sweet  and  soothing." 

Margaret  was  crying.  Without  a  word,  she  kissed 
Dora  and  went  out.  But  she  did  not  return  home  at 
once.  She  kept  on  down  the  little  street  on  which  the 
cottage  stood  till  she  came  to  another  which  led  to  the 
square. 

She  passed  the  stores,  bowing  to  an  acquaintance  in  a 
doorway  or  in  a  passing  carriage,  and  went  on  to  Wal 
ton's  bank. 

"Is  Mr.  Walton  in?"  she  asked  Toby  Lassiter,  at  the 
cashier's  window  in  the  green  wire  grating. 

"  He  has  just  this  minute  stepped  out,"  Toby  an 
swered.  "  He  will  be  right  in.  Won't  you  go  to  his 
office  and  wait?" 

"Thank  you,  yes,"  she  answered,  and  went  back  to 
the  musty  little  room,  taking  a  chair  near  the  old  man's 
desk. 

Without  a  moment's  delay,  Toby  grabbed  his  hat  and 
went  out  in  the  street.  He  found  the  banker  lounging 
around  Pete  Longley's  grocery  store,  where  he  had  an 
attentive  audience.  Toby  knew  better  than  to  inter 
rupt  the  old  man  when  he  was  talking,  so  he  waited  for 
Walton  to  finish  his  remarks,  which,  judging  by  'the 
steady  gleam  of  the  banker's  eye,  had  some  underlying 
motive;  and,  considering  the  fact  that  Pete  was  a  noted 
gossip,  Toby  decided  that  his  employer  was  simply  and 
deliberately  setting  afloat  certain  reports  that  would  be 
on  every  lip  before  nightfall. 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"Oh  yes,"  Toby  heard  him  saying,  "I  never  was  a 
man  to  let  my  right  hand  know  what  my  left  was  doing 
in  any  deal  whatsoever,  and  so,  all  this  time,  I  have  kept 
my  own  counsel  in  regard  to  where  Fred  was  at,  and 
why — why  I  sent  him  out  there.  He  invested  some  of 
the  scads  that  is  coming  to  him  in  that  big  boom  town 
and  turned  his  money  over  as  fast  as  a  dog  can  trot. 
Boys,  I'm  actually  ashamed  to  tell  you  fellows  how  rich 
he  really  is.  I  reckon  you'd  get  an  idea  of  how  he's  fixed 
if  I  was  to  say  he  has  made  more  since  he  left  here  than 
I've  raked  and  scraped  together  all  my  life." 

"You  don't  say!"  Pete  Longley  exclaimed.  "Well, 
that  certainly  is  fine.  I  reckon  he  did  it  through  his 
popularity.  I  never  knew  a  chap  that  had  as  many 
friends." 

"  Well,  he'll  be  back  to  shake  hands  with  you  all  very 
soon  now,"  Walton  said,  gratified  at  the  way  his  fuse 
had  ignited.  "  I've  been  out  to  see  him  a  time  or  two, 
but  he  has  always  been  too  busy  to  come  this  way ;  but 
he'll  get  here — he'll  lay  everything  down  and  head  this 
way  some  day  before  long." 

Just  then  Walton  caught  sight  of  the  breathless  Toby 
at  his  elbow;  he  stepped  out  to  the  edge  of  the  side 
walk,  and  bent  down  to  hear  what  his  clerk  had  to  say. 

"  She's  waiting  for  you  in  your  office,  Mr.  Walton," 
Toby  panted. 

"Who?— not— " 

"  Yes,  sir;  I  told  her  to  sit  down  and  I'd  fetch  you  in." 

"Oh,  Lord,  I  reckon  I'll  get  it  in  the  neck,  Toby!" 
Walton's  face  was  a  veritable  mask  of  gravity  and  con 
cern.  "  I  reckon  she's  come  to  give  the  boy  his  walking- 
papers.  I  have  thought  it  over  till  my  head  swims. 
No  woman  of  her  station  and  pride  would  ever  let  a 
man  come  back  to  her  while  a  thing  like  that  is  hanging 
over  him.  If  the  woman  and  the  child  was  dead  and 
under  ground,  it  might  be  different.  She's  come  too 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

quick  to  bear  good  news — a  woman  would  tussle  over  a 
thing  like  that  for  a  good  month,  and  then  ask  for  more 
time.  No,  the  jig  is  up!  I  deserve  it  for  the  string  of 
lies  I  was  wrapping  round  that  gang  to  make  my  case 
as  good  as  possible." 

He  moved  slowly  into  the  bank,  hung  up  his  hat  in  the 
little  hallway  deliberately,  and  quite  after  the  manner 
in  which  he  went  to  meet  business  proposals,  with  his 
rough  face  grimly  set  against  rejections  and  compro 
mises.  She  was  going  to  cast  him  down,  but  he'd  show 
her  that  he  was  game.  She  had  practically  closed  the 
matter  during  his  interview  with  her,  and  had  only  de 
layed  longer  at  his  earnest  request.  No,  she  shouldn't 
chuckle  over  his  defeat.  He  didn't  know  but  what  he'd 
throw  out  a  hint  that  Fred  wasn't  really  so  very  "  ram 
pageous"  in  the  matter,  after  all. 

"Oh,  how  do  you  do?"  he  said,  as  he  went  in.  She 
started  to  hold  out  her  hand,  but,  not  looking  for  such 
a  movement,  he  failed  to  see  it,  and  lunged  toward  his 
desk,  where  he  sat  and  took  up  a  pen. 

"Well,  I  reckon,"  he  began,  awkwardly,  "you've 
come  to  see  me  about — to  say  whether  or  not — that  is, 
you  remember,  I  said  if  you  finally  decided — " 

"  I  have  decided,  Mr.  Walton."  She  rose  and  came 
and  stood  over  him.  Her  voice  was  quivering;  there 
was  a  blaze  of  burning  joy  in  her  face  and  eyes,  but  he 
did  not  see  it. 

"Oh,  you  have!  Well,  it's  for  you  to  say  whether 
you  thought  best  or  not.  I  reckon  I  went  just  a  little 
mite  beyond  my  authority  up  there,  in  my  effort  to 
conduct  Fred's  affairs  for  him,  without,  you  understand 
— without  his  free  consent.  I  only  thought,  maybe,  if 
you  would  signify  your  willingness  to  overlook  certain 
rather  shady  things,  Fred  might  take  it  as  a  sort  o' — sort 
o'  all-round  sign  from  this  end — a  sort  of  index  of  public 
opinion  bearing  on  his  particular  case,  and — " 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  Yes,  I  have  decided,  Mr.  Walton,"  Margaret  broke  in. 
."I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  write  to  him.  Tell  him, 
please,  that  I'd  like  to  see  him.  I  feel  sure  that  when 
he  gets  home  he  and  I  will  fully  understand  each  other." 

"Good  gracious,  Miss  Margaret,  you  don't  mean — " 
Simon  stood  up  to  his  full  height,  his  old  eyes  blinking 
in  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  I  do,  Mr.  Walton.  I  want  to  see  him  and  talk 
to  him.  I  don't  know  how  to  say  it  to  you,  but  I  am 
sure  Fred  will  understand.  Tell  him  that  I — that  I 
kissed  you  for  his  sake,  there!" 

And  before  Simon  could  avoid  it  she  had  thrown  her 
arms  around  his  neck  and  actually  pressed  her  lips  to 
his  grizzled  cheek.  To  add  to  his  confusion,  Toby 
hastily  entered  the  room  just  as  she  was  releasing  her 
dumfounded  captive. 

"Oh!"  Toby  gasped,  his  face  ablaze  with  embarrass 
ment,  "  I  didn't  mean  to;  but  the  General  is  at  the  door 
in  his  carriage,  and  asked  if  you  were  in  here.  Of  course, 
Miss  Margaret,  I  hadn't  the  least  idea  but — 

"Well,  don't  let  it  get  out,  for  all  you  do,  Toby," 
Margaret  laughed,  merrily.  "Don't  forget,  Mr.  Walton; 
by  to-night's  mail,  sure!" 

And  the  next  instant  she  had  floated  out  of  the  room, 
leaving  the  red-face  banker  under  the  perplexed  stare  of 
his  apologetic  clerk. 

"She  oughtn't  to  have  done  that!"  Walton  growled, 
as  he  brushed  the  shoulders  of  his  coat  where  her  gloved 
hands  had  rested  and  stroked  his  tingling  cheek.  "She 
had  no  business  going  as  far  as  that.  Women  are  such 
dad-dratted  galoots  when  they  get  wound  up  in  any 
matter.  She  seems  willing  for  him  to  come.  I'm  not 
able  to  understand  it,  and  I  don't  intend  to  try.  They 
won't  be  long  getting  hitched  if  she  goes  at  him  in  a 
whirlwind  like  that.  Good  Lord,  I  wouldn't  have  my 
wife  know  what  she  done  just  now  for  any  man's  pile! 

316 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

She'd  make  a  scandal  out  of  it,  or  break  her  ne,ck 
trying." 

"Well,  it's  safe  in  my  hands,  Mr.  Walton,"  Toby  said, 
with  unconscious  humor.  "/'//  never  tell  it." 

"You'll  never  tell  it?  Who  the  devil  asked  you  to 
hide  it?"  Walton  stormed.  "But  I  reckon  she  meant  it 
to  sort  o'  seal  what  she'd  made  up  her  mind  to  agree  to, 
and  she  really  is  swallowing  a  pill,  Toby,  from  any 
point  of  view.  But  it  will  make  the  boy  powerful 
happy,  and  he  will  be  on  the  wing  as  soon  as  he  gets 
my  report.  Huh!  I  see  his  old  stepdaddy's  face  now. 
He  may  try  to  keep  him;  but,  shucks!  I've  got  the  old 
duck  where  the  feathers  are  short.  I've  started  a  bang- 
up  report  in  the  boy's  favor,  Toby,  and  you  can  sort  o' 
kick  the  ball  along  whenever  it  comes  your  way.  We 
needn't  mention  that  nasty  business  to  him,  neither; 
if  Margaret  can  let  bygones  be  bygones,  surely  the  rest 
of  us  can." 


CHAPTER   XXII 

'NDER  a  growing  weight  of  uneasiness, 
combined  with  a  sense  of  utter  discon 
tent  with  himself,  Gait  put  Lionel  down 
when  he  had  half  listened  to  his  accus 
ing  prattle  for  an  hour,  and  sought  the 
shadowy  solitude  of  his  great  house. 
Yes,  Margaret  Bearing  knew,  he  told  himself.     That 
was  plain  from  her  change  of  manner.     She  knew  the 
truth  at  last,  and  was  now  heaping  upon  him  the  silent, 
womanly  contempt  which  he  so  eminently  deserved. 

He  sat  at  his  open  window  and  watched  the  shadows 
fall  and  sullenly  creep  across  the  lawn  as  the  sunbeams 
receded,  and  the  twilight  of  a  close,  sultry  evening  came 
on.  He  went  down  to  supper  when  he  was  called,  but 
he  ate  little,  and  his  loneliness  seemed  more  oppressive 
there  in  the  open  gas-light,  under  the  gaze  of  the  ob 
servant  and  solicitous  attendants.  Taking  a  cigar,  he 
went  outside  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  on  the 
grass,  now  grimly  fighting  against  the  fate  which,  like 
some  grim  sea-monster,  was  clutching  him  with  a  mil 
lion  penetrating  tentacles,  and  coiling  round  him  as 
might  some  insidious  reptile  bent  upon  retributive  tort 
ure.  How  had  he  dared  to  question  the  predominance 
of  spirit  over  matter  when  this  piteous  appeal  for  the 
peace  of  his  soul  was  oozing  from  the  very  fibre  of  his 
being  ? 

Presently  he  saw  Wynn  Bearing  emerge  from  the 
front  door  of  his  home,  carrying  a  traveller's  bag.  Bear- 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

ing  rested  the  bag  on  the  walk  at  his  feet  and  stood 
looking  down  the  street.  Then,  with  his  arms  folded, 
he  began  to  walk  nervously  to  and  fro. 

"He  is  going  away,"  Gait  speculated.  "He  looks 
excited.  I  wonder  if  Margaret  could  have  told  him  of 
her  discovery?" 

Gait  stood  still,  held  to  the  ground  by  the  sheer  horror 
of  the  thought.  Of  all  possible  happenings,  he  had  most 
dreaded  his  best  friend's  discovery  of  that  particular 
thing.  The  young  doctor  had  turned  toward  him  and 
was  approaching.  He  now  held  his  head  down  and 
had  clasped  his  hands  tensely  behind  him.  Suddenly, 
when  quite  near,  he  raised  his  eyes  and  recognized 
Gait. 

"Hello,  Kenneth!"  he  said.  "I  didn't  know  you 
were  at  home.  Otherwise,  I  should  have  run  in  and 
said  good-bye." 

"You  are  going  somewhere,  then?"  Gait  said. 

"To  Augusta  for  a  few  days,"  Bearing  replied.  "I 
got  a  letter  offering  me  a  chance  to  do  an  important 
operation.  I  shall  be  glad  to  get  away,  even  for  so 
short  a  time  as  that.  I  almost  wish,  old  man,  that  I 
could  stay  away  forever.  I  used  to  love  this  town,  but 
I  hate  it  now.  I  hate  anything  that  is  heartless  and 
totally  blinded  by  money  and  power  to  all  sense  of  jus 
tice  and  common  decency." 

"Why,  what's  gone  wrong?"  Gait  inquired. 

"Wrong?  The  place  is  rotten  to  the  core!"  Bearing 
burst  out.  "  Kenneth,  a  thing  is  going  to  be  counte 
nanced  by  the  citizens  of  this  town  that  would  stain  the 
character  of  the  Bark  Ages.  Haven't  you  heard  the 
news  that  has  set  every  tongue  to  wagging  like  a  thou 
sand  bell-clappers?" 

"No,  I  haven't  heard  anything  out  of  the  ordinary. 
You  see,  I  am  keeping  so  close  here  at  home  that — " 

"Well,  old  man,  the  lowest,  poorest  excuse  for  a  man 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

that  old  Stafford  ever  produced  is  coming  back,"  Dear- 
ing  broke  it,  furiously.  "Fred  Walton,  I  mean.  I 
didn't  think  he'd  have  the  effrontery  to  show  his  face 
here  again,  but  he  has  decided  to  do  it." 

"Oh!"  Gait  exclaimed.  But  that  was  all  he  said,  for 
Dealing  went  on,  angrily: 

"Yes,  and  the  dastardly  thing — the  most  outrageous 
fact  about  it  all — is  that  every  soul  in  the  place  is  ready 
to  receive  him  with  open  arms.  He  has  made  lots  of 
money;  he  is  rich;  he  has  reformed,  they  say,  and,  idiots 
that  they  are,  they  have  forgiven  him.  I  have  heard 
his  return  spoken  of  by  a  score  of  our  very  best  citizens, 
and  not  one  of  them  has  even  mentioned  the  crime  that 
lies  at  his  door — the  crime  that  stands  out  to-day  in  a 
more  damning  light  than  it  ever  did.  The  brave,  pa 
tient,  suffering  little  woman — who  is  as  high  above  him 
intellectually,  morally,  and  every  other  way  as  the 
stars  are  above  the  earth — and  that  glorious  child  are  to 
have  another  slap  from  his  dirty,  egotistical  paw.  He 
put  her  into  prison  and  made  her  an  exile  with  his  name 
less  offspring,  and  yet  he  comes  back  like  a  royal  prince. 
'Wild  oats,'  they  call  his  vile  conduct,  and  they  are 
ready  to  wipe  it  off  his  record.  That  is  modern  man 
kind  for  you,  and,  Kenneth,  this  one  circumstance  has 
come  nearer  to  shaking  my  faith  than  anything  that  ever 
happened  to  me.  If  God  can  allow  an  insult  like  that 
to  come  to  Dora  Barry  now,  after  all  she  has  borne 
so  sweetly,  silently,  and  bravely,  He  can  be  no  God 
of  mine.  I'll  be  through  with  the  creeds,  I  tell  you. 
I'll  join  your  gang  of  scoffers  and  trot  along  wherever 
your  black  philosophy  leads.  Even  my  uncle  has  no 
protest  to  make,  nor  my  sister,  who  I  thought  had  given 
the  scamp  up  in  disgust.  By  George,  she  even  looks 
happy  over  it!  I  don't  want  to  meet  him  face  to  face. 
I  don't  know  that  I  could  control  myself.  She  has 
given  me  no  right  to  act  as  her  defender;  if  she  had, 

320 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Kenneth,  I'd  take  up  her  cause  if  it  ended  my  career 
here  forever!" 

"You?     You?"  Gait  gasped. 

"Yes,  I.  Listen,  old  man.  You  are  my  best  friend, 
and  I  feel  like  telling  some  one.  I  feel  that  it  would  be 
a  sort  of  tribute  of  respect  to  her  worthiness.  I  presume 
you,  like  all  the  rest,  think  that  I  never  have  had  any 
preference  for  any  particular  woman,  but  I  have  had, 
and  I  am  not  ashamed  of  it. 

"When  I  was  a  boy  of  thirteen  or  so,  and  Dora  was 
about  eight,  we  used  to  play  together.  Even  at  that 
age  I  had  an  eye  for  beauty,  and  she  was  the  prettiest 
child  that  ever  lived.  We  called  ourselves  sweethearts. 
Her  old  father  used  to  get  us  to  sit  for  him  in  his  studio, 
and  he  would  talk  to  us  as  only  such  a  beautiful  soul 
could  to  children.  He  used  to  sigh  and  say  that  she 
would  be  a  pauper,  and  that  I  would  grow  up  a  prince, 
for  an  artist  could  not  leave  his  daughter  money,  and 
my  father  was  said  to  be  well-to-do.  Even  at  that 
early  age  I  denied  the  possibility  of  such  a  thing  making 
any  difference  between  her  and  me,  and  when  she  grew 
up  into  such  beautiful  girlhood,  and  was  studying  art 
under  her  father,  I  determined  to  make  something  of 
myself,  aside  from  the  inheritance  which  was  to  come 
to  me.  So  I  went  in  for  medicine  and  surgery,  and  she 
kept  to  art,  saying  that  she  would  earn  a  living  for  her 
parents  when  they  became  old.  But  he  died  away  off 
in  Paris,  whither  his  dreams  led  him,  while  I  was  at 
college,  and  when  I  came  home  1  found  that  she  had 
grown  away  from  me.  It  was  a  great  blow,  for  I  had 
been  constantly  thinking  of  her.  To  me  she  was  the 
very  glory  of  her  sex,  and  it  was  mostly  her  influence 
that  made  me  what  I  am.  I  have  seen  many  women 
since  then,  but  never  her  equal  from  any  point  of  view. 
I  went  with  her  occasionally  after  that,  but  it  was  more 
to  become  accustomed  to  her  loss  than  in  the  hope  of 

321 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

winning  her  regard.  Then  the  awful,  unmentionable 
thing  came  out.  You  know  what  I  mean.  That  man 
had  won  her  confidence,  won  her  heart — how,  God  only 
knows,  but  he  had — and  dealt  her  a  back-handed  blow, 
and  left  her  helpless,  miserable.  I  tried  then,  harder 
than  ever,  to  tear  her  image  out  of  my  heart,  but  I 
couldn't.  My  professional  duties  called  me  into  the 
saddened  home  to  which  no  other  soul  was  admitted. 
I  saw  that  even  in  her  blighted  womanhood  she  was 
fulfilling  every  promise  given  by  her  youth.  Instead 
of  sinking  lower,  she  was  blooming  like  a  flower  under 
snow.  I  suppose  I  shall  go  through  the  rest  of  my  life 
with  her  personality  woven  into  the  very  warp  and 
woof  of  my  being.  But  knowing  her  has  strengthened 
and  broadened  me.  She  is  beautiful,  pure,  and  spiritual 
— God's  denial  of  the  social  law  held  over  her.  Only 
shallow  men  judge  women  by  physical  mistakes  made 
in  the  unselfish  purity  of  over-confidence.  She  will  never 
call  on  me  for  the  aid  I'd  gladly  give,  and  I  can't  insult 
her  strange  widowhood  by  offering  it.  She  has  her 
heart  set  on  going  to  Paris  to  ^ive  and  study,  as  her 
father  did.  She  thinks  she  can  bury  herself  there  be 
fore  Lionel  is  old  enough  to  realize  his  condition,  and 
that  he  may  never  know  the  truth.  It  is  a  beautiful 
dream,  but  it  can  never  be  realized." 

A  horse  and  buggy  stopped  at  the  gate,  and  Doctor 
Beaman,  who  was  driving,  leaned  over  and  called  out, 
excitedly:  "I'm  fifteen  minutes  late,  Wynn;  you  may 
miss  the  train.  Hurry!  hurry!" 

"That's  a  fact;   I  must  go.     Good-bye,  old  man." 

Gait  held  on  to  Bearing's  hand  firmly,  almost  des 
perately. 

"Wait,  I  have  something  to  say,"  he  began — "some 
thing  that  simply  must  be  said." 

"Good  gracious,  Wynn,  hurry,  hurry!"  Doctor  Bea 
man  was  heard  calling  out,  impatiently.  "You  don't 

322 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

want  to  lie  over  in  Atlanta.  I'll  have  to  go  in  a  gallop, 
and  then  may  miss  your  train!  Hurry!" 

"Wait,  just  a  moment,"  Gait  implored. 

"Oh,  I  know  you  are  sympathetic."  Dealing,  mis 
understanding,  ran  for  his  bag,  with  the  wordless  Gait 
shambling  along  at  his  side.  "  I  couldn't  have  told  you 
all  that  if  you  hadn't  taken  such  a  liking  for  the  poor 
little  kid.  Good-bye,  good-bye,  only  don't  join  the 
gang  of  fools  that  will  laud  that  scamp  to  the  skies  when 
he  comes — that  is  all  I  ask." 

"But  you  must  listen!"  Gait  cried  out.  "I  must  tell 
you  now  that — "  But  Bearing  had  darted  away.  The 
gate  closed  after  him,  and  Gait  saw  him  climbing  into 
the  buggy  even  while  it  was  in  motion. 

"Well,  he'll  know  it  soon  enough,"  the  lonely  man 
thought.  "The  facts  will  come  out  now.  Walton  will 
hear  the  report  when  he  gets  back,  and  Dora  will  declare 
him  innocent." 

Gait  went  into  the  dimly  lighted  hallway  of  his  house 
and  ascended  the  stairs.  There  was  nothing  to  do  now, 
he  told  himself.  The  world  that  had  admired  him,  the 
men  and  women  who  had  entrusted  him  with  the  invest 
ment  of  their  savings  in  his  various  schemes,  would 
stare  and  doubt  their  senses.  They  would  shun  him — 
one  and  all  they  would  shun  him  as  they  would  some 
loathsome  thing ;  he  had  used  their  money  well,  but  their 
profit  had  been  made  by  a  man  who  had  known  no  honor. 

He  entered  his  room,  turned  up  the  light,  and  critically 
examined  his  ghastly  image  in  the  mirror  on  his  bureau. 
What  a  gashed  and  blearing  mask  to  all  that  lay  be 
hind  it!  How  could  it  go  on?  How  could  he  bear  with 
it  another  day?  Even  if  he  could  lay  it  aside  in  sleep 
to-night,  the  heartless  dawn  would  reveal  it  all  the  more 
relentlessly.  Suddenly  out  of  the  turmoil  of  his  emo 
tions  a  grim  resolve  rose  and  fastened  itself  on  him.  His 
suicide  would  be  his  confession — his  belated  exoneration 

323 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

of  the  man  who  so  long  had  borne  the  stigma  in  his 
stead.  In  a  small  drawer  in  the  bureau  lay  a  revolver. 
It  was  loaded  in  all  of  its  six  chambers,  and  as  he  took 
the  weapon  out  he  almost  fondled  it  in  his  clammy 
hand.  In  the  morning  his  servants  would  find  his  body, 
and  the  truth  would  be  out.  He  would  close  the  door 
and  windows  that  the  revolver's  report  might  be  smoth 
ered.  But  he  started;  there  was  the  child,  his  helpless 
child,  to  whom  he  had  given  life — and  such  a  life! 

"Lionel,  Lionel!"  he  said,  aloud.  "My  son,  my  son, 
my  beautiful  brave  boy,  who  loves  me  in  spite  of  what  I 
have  done  against  him!  Will  he  grow  up  and  under 
stand?  Will  he  pardon  his  misguided  father,  or  blush 
for  shame  at  the  thought  of  him?" 

With  the  revolver  still  in  his  hand,  he  sank  into  a 
chair  near  a  window  and  gazed  out  into  the  star-filled 
sky.  Suddenly  he  started.  Whence  had  come  the 
thought  ?  He  could  not  tell,  but  a  new  and  dazzling 
conviction  was  on  him  like  light  streaming  through  the 
gates  of  Paradise.  Kill  himself?  How  absurd  the 
thought!  He  might  dash  his  bleeding,  lifeless  body  to 
the  earth,  but  he,  himself,  would  remain  a  deathless 
witness  to  the  act.  Nothing  in  the  shape  of  matter,  no 
force  known  to  science,  could  possibly  put  out  of  exist 
ence  the  yearning  for  atonement  within  him.  Nothing 
so  divine  as  that  could  die.  Such  a  thing  was  from  the 
Eternity  that  had  created  Eternity.  He  threw  the  re 
volver  on  his  bed,  and  drew  a  deep,  delectable  breath. 
His  now  entranced  vision  seemed  to  extend  further  out 
into  the  world-filled  void  above  him.  He  stood  up, 
panting  from  the  sheer  ravage  his  new  hope  had  wrought 
upon  him. 

"Eternity!  Eternity!"  he  whispered,  in  reverential 
awe.  "  Now  I  see — the  scales  have  fallen  from  my  sight. 
I  see!  Thank  God,  I  see!  I  understand!" 

324 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

>HEN  Kenneth  Gait  waked  the  next 
morning  it  was  with  the  new  sense  of 
having  slept  long  and  restfully  for  the 
first  time  in  years.  The  sun  was  stream 
ing  into  his  windows  from  the  golden 
east ;  the  cool  air  seemed  crisp  and  invig 
orating  ;  in  the  boughs  of  the  trees  close  by  birds  were 
flitting  about  and  singing  merrily.  The  dew-wet  sward, 
bespangled  with  a  myriad  of  sun-born  gems,  stretched 
away  into  the  gauzy  mist  which  hung  over  the  town. 

" It  is  glorious — glorious!"  he  cried,  in  ecstasy.  " She 
may  refuse,  but  I  shall  never  desist  till  I  have  won  her 
forgiveness." 

After  he  had  breakfasted  in  the  big  dining-room,  now 
no  longer  solitary,  sombre,  or  accusing,  he  went  directly 
down  to  Mrs.  Barry's  cottage.  With  a  strange,  buoyant 
lightness  of  step  he  entered  the  little  gate,  fastened  the 
latch  with  a  calm  hand,  and  went  up  the  steps  and  rap 
ped  on  the  closed  door,  seeing,  as  he  stood  waiting,  the 
face  of  Mrs.  Chumley,  as  the  washerwoman  peered  curi 
ously  over  the  fence  at  him  from  her  wood-pile,  where 
she  was  wielding  a  gapped  and  dull-edged  axe.  The  door 
was  opened  by  Mrs.  Barry,  who  could  not  disguise  her 
surprise. 

"I  have  come  to  see  your  daughter,  Mrs.  Barry,"  he 

said,  humbly,  as  he  stood  uncovered  before  her.     "  I  hope 

she  will  receive  me;  I  have  something  important  to  say." 

"She's  not  here.      But  don't  stand  there,"  the  old 

325 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

woman  said;    "somebody  might  see  you  and  wonder. 
Come  into  the  parlor." 

She  led  the  way,  and  he  followed. 

"  No,  she  is  not  here,"  she  repeated,  when  they  were 
in  the  simply  furnished  room.  "  She  and  Lionel  went 
very  early  to  the  swamp  over  the  hill  near  the  river. 
She  had -some  sketching  to  do,  and  he  wished  to  go 
along.  You  say  you  want  to  see  her.  Of  course,  you 
understand  that  such  a  request  is  unexpected,  to  say 
the  least,  and,  as  I  am  her  mother —  The  speaker 
seemed  at  a  loss  for  words  to  express  her  meaning,  and 
paused  helplessly. 

"  I  am  glad  of  this  opportunity  to  see  you  first,"  Gait 
said,  humbly.  "Mrs.  Barry,  I've  come  to  beg  her,  on 
my  knees  if  need  be,  to  be  my  wife.  Perhaps  you  may 
understand;  I  hope  you  do." 

"  Oh!"  And  the  old  woman  sank  into  a  rocking-chair 
and  stared  up  at  him.  "Oh!"  she  exclaimed  again,  her 
wrinkled  hand  pressed  against  her  thin  breast.  "You 
mean  that,  do  you,  Kenneth  Gait  ?  Well,  I  have  never 
mentioned  it  to  her,  but  I  thought  it  might  come.  I 
read  faces  fairly  well,  and  I  saw,  even  at  a  distance,  the 
spiritual  despair  in  yours.  Knowing  what  you  were 
responsible  for,  I  felt  that  your  solitary  life  in  your  lone 
ly  house  would  bring  results,  for  good  or  bad.  At  first 
I  thought  you  might  resume — might  make  dishonorable 
proposals;  but  when  I  saw  you  and  Lionel  together  so 
often  I  began  to  count  on  other  things — I  began  to  pray 
for  other  things.  You  don't  look  like  a  mean  man, 
Kenneth  Gait;  and  I  can't  find  it  in  my  heart  to  re 
proach  you.  Besides,  it  is  pitiful  to  think  about,  con 
sidering  the  child's  future;  but  she  may  have  you  now 
right  where  you  had  her  once." 

"You  mean — you  mean!"  he  exclaimed,  aghast,  as  he 
bent  over  her  chair  and  stared  into  her  calm  face.  "  You 
mean  that — " 

326 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"  I  mean  that  it  may  be  too  late,"  she  interrupted  him. 

"Too  late?"  He  sank  into  a  chair  in  front  of  her, 
and,  pale  and  quivering  in  every  limb,  swung  his  hat 
between  his  knees. 

"  Yes;  she  is  my  daughter,  but  she  is  above  me  in  a 
thousand  ways.  She  suffered  untold  agonies  after  you 
desert — after  you  left  Stafford,  and  all  through  her 
trouble;  but  when  the  baby  came,  and  we  were  all 
shut  up  here  away  from  human  sight,  the  choicest  bless 
ings  from  on  high  seemed  to  fall  on  her.  With  her  close 
work  in  her  studio,  and  her  devotion  to  the  child,  she 
grew  into  something  more  of  heaven  than  of  earth.  I 
suppose  there  is  such  a  thing  as  rising  too  high  to  love, 
in  a  human  sort  of  way,  and  I  tremble  when  I  think  of 
how  she  may  now  take  your  proposal.  I  want  her  to  be 
sensible  and  think  of  the  boy's  interests,  but  the  idea 
of  helping  him  in  just  that  way  may  be — be  repulsive  to 
her.  She's  done  without  your  aid  all  these  years,  you 
see,  Kenneth  Gait.  She  has  leaned  on  a  Higher  Power 
than  any  earthly  one,  and  has  already  received  her  re 
ward.  You  knew  her  as  she  was  once,  but  not  as  she 
is  now.  She  was  hardly  more  than  a  child  then.  Her 
father  used  to  say  she  would  be  a  great  genius,  and  I 
think  she  really  is.  Her  isolation  from  mankind  has 
done  her  more  good  in  one  way  than  harm.  It  has  put 
something  into  her  work  that  couldn't  have  got  there 
any  other  way.  Only  yesterday  a  letter  came  from  a 
high  authority  on  art —  But  I  have  no  right  to  speak  of 
her  private  affairs.  If  she  sees  fit  to  tell  you  about  it 
she  may.  That's  another  matter.  She  has  never  been 
ashamed,  as  this  town,  no  doubt,  thinks  she  is.  She 
looked  on  what  passed  between  you  and  her  before  the 
trouble  as  a  true  marriage  in  the  sight  of  God.  It  wasn't 
the  way  persons  generally  look  at  such  matters,  but  she 
wasn't  a  common,  ordinary  person,  and  she  didn't  think 
the  man  she  loved  was — that  is,  I  mean  she  thought 
"  327 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

you  looked  at  it  exactly  as  she  did.  She  took  you  at 
your  word.  If  what  I  say  pains  you,  I'm  sorry.  I  must 
be  blunt  to  express  what  is  in  me,  for  I  have  long  ago 
justified  her.  If  she  had  been  worldly  minded,  back 
there  when  she  was  glorying  in  the  secret  between  you 
and  her,  she  would  have  had  worldly  caution  and  fore 
thought.  You  may  get  forgiveness  even  from  her,  Ken 
neth  Gait,  in  time,  but  there  can  be  nothing  quite  as 
unforgivable  in  the  sight  of  God,  it  seems  to  me,  as  tak 
ing  advantage  of  just  that  sort  of  faith." 

The  light  of  hope  had  died  out  of  Gait's  parchment- 
like  face.  He  dropped  his  horrified  gaze  to  the  floor. 

"I  see,"  he  groaned.  "I  am  too  late!"  and  sat  as  if 
stunned.  "  I  was  never  up  to  her  level.  It  was  only  her 
girlish  fancy  that  told  her  I  was." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!"  Mrs.  Barry  said,  almost  sym 
pathetically.  "  Now  that  you  feel  as  you  do,  her  old 
trust  might  come  back.  There  is  one  thing  that  has 
touched  her,  I'll  tell  you  that  much,  for  certain,  and 
that  has  been  your  love  for  Lionel.  One  day  I  caught 
her  shedding  tears  over  it  as  she  stood  concealed  by  the 
window-curtain  watching  you  play  with  him  in  the 
swing.  If  anything  ever  brings  her  back  to  you,  it  will 
be  that  one  thing.  He  loves  you,  too ;  he  is  always  talk 
ing  of  you,  and,  if  I  am  any  judge,  she  rather  likes  to  hear 
it.  It  may  be  that — it  may  not;  I  never  can  be  sure 
I  am  reading  her  right." 

He  rose.  "  I  am  going  to  find  her  now,"  he  said.  "  At 
any  rate,  she  shall  know  how  I  feel.  She  may  spurn  me, 
but  from  this  day  on  I  shall  devote  my  life  to  her  in 
terests  and  those  of  our  child." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

|NTO  the  wood,  a  wild,  unbrageous  tract 
of  land  lying  back  of  the  cottage,  he 
strode,  full  of  ponderous  fears  as  to  the 
outcome  of  his  undertaking,  and  yet 
vaguely  buoyed  up  by  the  natural 
beauty  on  all  sides.  Soon  the  town 
lay  behind  him;  only  the  low  hum  of  its  traffic,  the 
occasional  clanging  of  a  locomotive's  bell,  the  whistle 
of  an  engine  at  a  factory,  the  clatter  of  a  dray  followed 
him.  The  reverent,  almost  peaceful  thought  was  borne 
in  upon  him  that  the  meandering,  little-used  path  he 
was  pursuing  had  been  traversed  many  times  by  Dora. 
In  that  secluded  and  picturesque  spot  she  had  breathed 
in  the  inspiration  which  had  lifted  her  far  above  those 
by  whom  she  had  been  misunderstood  and  traduced. 
Along  that  path  she  and  his  child,  perchance,  had  plucked 
flowers  through  the  years  in  which  he  had  shunned  them 
— denied  them  before  the  world,  whose  good  opinion  he 
had  coveted  to  his  moral  undoing. 

Half  a  mile  from  the  cottage  the  path  began  to  de 
scend  to  the  river  valley,  a  vast  swampy  tangle  of  dense 
undergrowth.  Here  in  the  marshes,  impassable  during 
the  overflow  of  winter  and  spring,  but  now  dank,  cool, 
and  seductive,  were  many  nooks  of  indescribable  beauty. 
Here  moss-grown  willows  bowed  over  seeping,  crystal 
pools  and  silently  trickling  water.  There  were  the  ar 
mies  of  cattails,  the  solitary  clumps  of  broom  -  sedge, 
the  banks  of  delicate  ferns,  and  the  pond-lilies  which 

329 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

had  formed  the  background  of  her  pictures.  There  she 
had  found  the  wild  rose-bushes,  the  papaw,  the  sumac, 
and  the  mazes  of  grape  and  muscadine  vines  into  the 
reproduction  of  which  she  had  poured  her  crushed  and 
yet  awakening  soul. 

Presently  he  came  upon  her  seated  on  a  mossy  bank, 
her  closed  sketch-book  on  her  knee.  She  was  not  work 
ing,  but,  with  the  end  of  her  pencil  at  her  parted  lips, 
she  sat  watching  Lionel,  whom  he  could  see  plucking 
flowers  and  colored  leaves  not  far  away. 

"Now,  don't  go  any  farther,  darling  boy!"  he  heard 
her  call  out,  in  tones  the  mellow  sweetness  of  which 
shot  through  him  like  a  delectable  pain.  "You  might 
wander  away,  and  then  mother's  boy  would  be  lost." 

Sheltered  from  her  view  by  hanging  vines  and  the 
lowering  branches  of  a  beech-tree,  Gait  peered  out  at 
her.  How  could  he  have  been  so  blinded? — so  dense 
ly  unappreciative  of  her?  Where  in  all  his  experience 
had  he  known  a  creature  so  beautiful  in  soul,  mind,  and 
body  ?  And  yet  he  had  thrown  her  down  and  trampled 
on  her  and  left  her  covered  with  the  mire  and  slime 
of  his  own  making.  He  smothered  a  groan  of  blended 
self-contempt  and  despair.  Her  mother  had  doubted 
his  ever  regaining  her  regard,  and  Mrs.  Barry  knew  her 
best.  The  girl  had  been  at  his  mercy  once,  and  he  had 
not  hesitated  to  strike;  now  she  had  the  upper  hand. 
What  would  she  do?  How  would  she  receive  his  pro 
posal? — what  would  she  say?  Would  her  soulful  eyes 
blaze  under  the  fires  of  just  retaliation?  Would  her 
magnetic  voice  ring  with  the  contempt  she  must  so  long 
have  felt? 

Noiselessly  treading  the  dank,  green  moss  which  lay 
between  him  and  her,  he  was  close  to  her  before  she  was 
aware  of  his  presence.  Then  she  glanced  up  and  saw 
him;  there  was  a  fluttering,  shrinking  look  in  her  long- 
lashed  eyes,  in  which  he  read  the  hurried  hope  that  the 

330 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

meeting  was  purely  accidental ;  to  his  horror,  he  also  read 
in  the  simple  act  of  reaching  for  her  hat,  which  lay  by 
her  side,  that  she  intended  to  avoid  any  sort  of  inter 
course  with  him. 

With  the  agony  of  this  fear  sounding  in  his  voice,  he 
cried,  imploringly:  "Please  don't  run  away!  I  have 
been  to  your  house  to  see  you;  your  mother  told  me 
you  were  here." 

"But  she  wouldn't"  Dora  said,  pale  and  surprised. 
"She  knows  that  I  don't  want  to — to  meet  any  one 
here.  It  isn't  fair,  Kenneth — you  know  it  isn't!  It  is 
taking  a  mean,  low  advantage  of  me,  after  all  that  has 
happened.  It  is  cowardly,  and  I  won't  stand  it.  You 
will  leave  me  instantly,  or  /  shall  go!" 

"God  forgive  me,  you  are  right,  Dora!"  he  cried,  in 
dismay.  "But  there  is  something  I  must  say,  and  even 
your  mother  thought  I  might  venture  to  see  you." 

"  If  it  is  to  offer  me  money  for  my  boy,  as  you  did  in 
the  contemptible  letter  I  burned  unanswered,  soon  after 
his  birth,  you  will  be  wasting  time,"  she  said,  wrathful, 
in  her  cold,  unrelenting  beauty.  "  I  can't  accept  money, 
even  for  him,  which  was  earned  as  the  price  of  his  moth 
er's  public  disgrace.  He  is  mine,  and  he  shall  be  mine 
to  the  end.  I  can  work  for  him  till  he  is  old  enough  to 
work  for  me.  We  don't  need  you — neither  of  us  do, 
Kenneth." 

"I  have  made  you  angry,"  he  said,  quivering  from 
head  to  foot,  his  anguished  eyes  fixed  on  hers.  "  Listen, 
Dora.  Last  night  I  planned  to  kill  myself  to  get  out  of 
the  agony  into  which  my  awakened  love  for  you  and  my 
new  love  for  Lionel  has  drawn  me.  I  was  ready  to  do 
it,  for  to  that  moment  I  had  no  fear  of  God  or  eternity ; 
but  a  change  came  over  me.  Hope  dawned;  I  don't 
know  why,  but  it  did,  and  I  made  a  determination  to 
spend  the  remainder  of  my  life  in  your  service,  and  in 
that  of  my  child,  for  he  is  mine  as  much  as  he  is  yours. 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

Then  my  new  hope  seemed  to  fairly  set  the  world  on 
fire.  It  was  showered  down  from  heaven  like  the  for 
giveness  of  God  upon  a  blinded  creature  buried  in  the 
mire  of  sin.  Ever  since  I  sold  my  honor  the  night  my 
ambition  conquered  me,  I  have  been  a  cursed,  isolated 
soul.  It  must  have  been  the  hand  of  God  that  led  me 
back  here  to  Stafford.  I  love  Lionel  with  all  my  heart, 
and  I  know  now,  in  spite  of  my  contradictory  conduct, 
that  I  have  loved  you  all  this  time.  Last  night  Wynn 
Bearing  told  me  that  it  is  your  wish  to  go  to  Paris — 
you,  your  mother,  and  the  child — and  the  thought  came 
to  me  that  if  you  would  be  my  wife  we  could  go  and  re 
main  there  a  few  years,  and  return  here  to  spend  the 
rest  of  our  lives,  and  thus  regain  the  happiness  we've  lost. 
Oh,  don't  turn  from  me,  Dora!  You  must,  oh,  you 
must  give  me  a  chance!  God  knows  it  is  my  duty,  and 
you  must  not  stand  between  me  and  that.  I  can  wait 
for  the  return  of  your  respect,  even  if  it  is  for  years. 
But  give  me  a  chance!" 

She  had  turned  her  face  from  him,  and  he  could  not 
tell  what  effect  his  appeal  had  had  upon  her ;  but  he  saw 
that  her  soft,  white  fingers  were  clinched  tightly  on  her 
knee.  Suddenly  she  looked  him  squarely  in  the  face. 

"Oh,  you  make  it  so  hard  for  me!"  she  said,  gently. 
"  I  knew  you  were  not  a  happy  man.  I  saw  the  shadow 
of  spiritual  death  in  your  countenance  the  day  I  met  you 
at  Bearing's.  Yes,  the  child  is  yours,  as  well  as  he  is 
mine.  God  has  made  him  a  part  of  you,  as  he  is  a  part 
of  me.  And  he  loves  you,  Kenneth,  he  loves  you — and 
admires  you  above  all  men.  Young  as  he  is,  it  would 
actually  pain  him  to  be  separated  from  you.  And  you 
are  asking  me  to  be  your  wife !"  She  shrugged  her  shoul 
ders,  her  proud  lip  quivered,  and  she  looked  away.  "  You 
are  asking  me,  and  now!" 

"  Yes,  Bora,  to  be  my  wife  before  the  world,  as  you 
have  been  in  God's  sight  all  these  years.  I  am  willing 

332 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

to  crawl  in  the  dust  at  your  feet.  You  are  far  above 
me.  You  were  that  when  I  blindly  deserted  you,  and 
I  can  never  be  worthy  of  your  forgiveness,  but  I  would 
die  for  a  chance  to  serve  you." 

"How  sad  it  all  is!"  she  sighed,  her  glance  on  the 
ground.  "  What  a  mere  blown  -  about  straw  I  have 
been !  What  a  grim  thing  for  a  proud  woman  to  decide ! 
You  deserted  me  once  to  save  a  paltry  sum  of  money — 
a  worldly  ambition ;  you  want  me  back  to  save  your  soul 
— that  expresses  it,  Kenneth.  But  I  can't  consent.  I 
am  simply  human — and  a  woman.  My  pride  won't  let 
me  —  the  pride  that  every  woman  has  who  holds  her 
self  erect.  You  sold  yourself  once,  and  you  are  now  ask 
ing  me  to  do  the  same.  Your  price  was  a  successful  rail 
road  and  the  plaudits  of  a  few  people — the  price  paid 
to  me  would  be  the  future  welfare  of  my  child.  I  am 
expected  to  salve  the  wounds  of  a  torn  and  mangled 
womanhood  with  the  realization  that  I  am  providing  for 
my  boy.  There  is  no  pain  keener  than  the  fear  that 
one's  offspring  may  suffer  what  we  ourselves  have  been 
through,  and  I'd  give  my  soul  to  see  Lionel  happy  in 
the  time  to  come,  but  I  can't  bring  it  about  in  the  way 
you  ask.  I  simply  can't!  I  loved  you,  Kenneth,  before 
that  unspeakable  cloud  fell  between  us,  but  I  was  only  a 
girl  then,  and  during  all  the  years  that  have  passed  since 
I  have  given  you  no  place  at  all  in  my  heart.  We  are, 
in  fact,  meeting  to-day  as  strangers." 

"  I  know.  I  know  it  is  true  so  far  as  it  touches  you,'1 
he  said,  with  a  deep  sigh,  "  for  your  love  died  with  your 
respect  for  me,  but  my  love  has  never  died,  Dora.  I 
smothered  it  for  a  time,  in  my  mad  ambition,  but  there 
was  no  act  of  yours  to  weaken  it,  and  so  it  lived  and 
grew  till  it  has  overpowered  me.  I  love  you  now, 
strange  as  it  may  sound  to  you,  ten  thousand  times 
more  than  I  ever  did.  You  may  turn  from  me  with  a 
shudder  and  as  a  thing  to  be  loathed;  but  I  shall 

333 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

never  cease  to  watch  over  you  and  strive  to  protect 
you." 

"  I  can't  say  any  more,"  she  said,  as  she  tied  the  tape 
round  her  portfolio  and  gathered  up  her  pencils.  "  I 
don't  want  to  pain  you;  but  I  can't  do  what  you  ask, 
even — even  for  Lionel's  sake.  He  and  I  and  his  granny 
may  go  to  Paris  some  day,  but  we  don't  want  you 
with  us,  Kenneth.  I  want  to  leave  absolutely  everything 
behind.  You  must  be  dead  to  us;  there  is  no  other 
way — no  other  possible  way." 

He  turned  his  fixed  gaze  away,  that  she  might  not  see 
the  look  of  agony  which  had  overspread  his  face.  She 
sat  still  and  silent  for  several  minutes;  then  he  saw  her 
draw  herself  up  excitedly,  look  about  anxiously,  and  rise 
to  her  feet. 

"Oh,  where  is  Lionel?"  she  cried.  "He  was  there 
in  the  bushes  when  you  came.  Oh,  he  may  have  wan 
dered  off  and  be  lost!  There  are  some  very  dangerous 
places  along  the  river-bank!" 

"  I  see  him!  Don't  be  alarmed!"  Gait  said,  indicating 
a  spot  beyond  a  clump  of  bushes.  "He's  all  right;  I'll 
bring  him  to  you." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  coldly,  and  she  sank  back 
rigidly  on  the  grass. 

He  returned  a  moment  later  with  Lionel  in  his  arms. 
She  could  see,  as  she  swept  them  with  a  hurried  glance, 
that  Gait  was  pressing  the  child  close  against  his  breast 
with  a  look  of  despair  in  his  white  face.  Reaching 
Dora,  Gait  was  lowering  the  child  to  the  ground  when 
Lionel  clung  tightly  round  his  neck,  pressing  his  little 
hand  against  his  cheek. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  Lionel  asked,  anxiously. 
"Mamma,  he  can't  talk.  He  tries,  but  he  can't;  he  is 
trembling  all  over;  he  is  about  to  cry.  What  is  the 
matter  with  him?" 

Reaching  up,  and  without  a  word,  Dora  took  the 
334 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

child  into  her  arms,  and,  holding  him  across  her  lap  as 
if  he  had  been  an  infant,  she  bent  over  his  face  to  kiss 
him.  Presently  she  looked  up  at  Gait,  and  her  proud  lip 
trembled  as  she  said: 

"Oh,  Kenneth,  fate  is  handling  us  strangely.  I  spoke 
harshly  just  now,  for  I  can  see  that  you  are  suffering.  I 
wish  I  could  be  less  human.  After  all  my  dreams,  I 
am  of  the  earth,  earthy.  I  am  no  higher  than  a  worm 
of  this  soil,  after  all  the  heights  I  thought  I  had  climbed. 
But  I  can't  help  myself.  I  could  never  forget.  I  might 
try  throughout  eternity,  but  I'd  never,  never  forget — 
forget  that  I  offered  myself  wholly,  body  and  soul,  and 
that  you  refused  to — to  take  me  when  I  was  in  trouble. 
It  may  be  sinful  to  look  at  it  so,  but  I  simply  can't  see 
it  otherwise.  You  must  really  go  now.  Good-bye!" 

"Good-bye,"  he  echoed,  in  his  throat.  "I  am  going 
away  to-morrow,  and  I  promise  never  to  intrude  myself 
upon  either  of  you  again." 

" '  Good-bye  ?' — you  said '  good-bye !'  "  Lionel  sudden 
ly  sat  up  in  his  mother's  lap  and  stared  from  his  great, 
startled  eyes,  his  beautiful  mouth  puckered  up  and 
quivering. 

"Yes,  I  have  to  go  away,"  Gait  faltered,  his  glance 
averted.  "  I  only  came  to  spend  a  short  time  at  Staf 
ford." 

"  But  you  told  me  you  never  would  go  away  from  me," 
the  child  persisted.  "Don't  you  remember  the  day  I 
fell  and  hurt  my  knee,  and  you  washed  it  and  put  the 
medicine  on  it?  Don't  you  remember  you  kissed  me, 
and  hugged  me,  and  wanted  me  to  kiss  you,  and  said  if 
I'd  promise  to  be  your  little  boy  you  would  always  stay 
with  me?  How  can  I  be  your  little  boy  if — if  you  go 
off?" 

The  eyes  of  the  mother  and  father  met  in  the  strangest 
stare  that  ever  passed  between  two  mortal  creatures. 

"  I  can  always  love  you  if  I  can't  be  with  you,"  Gait 

335 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

faltered,  conscious  of  the  emptiness  of  his  words.  "  I 
can  always  love  you  and  think  what  a  plucky  little  boy 
you  are,  and — and —  His  voice  trailed  away  into 
nothingness.  A  sob  rose  in  his  throat  and  choked  him. 

"  But  I  want  you  to  stay!"  The  child  was  crying  now, 
with  his  chubby  hands  to  his  eyes.  Suddenly  Dora, 
with  a  desperate  movement,  pressed  him  to  her  breast. 

"You  must  not  play  on  his  feelings  that  way!"  she 
cried,  fiercely,  casting  a  significant  glance  toward  the 
town.  "Go,  please!" 

He  bowed  low,  a  look  of  death  on  his  face.  She 
pressed  the  head  of  the  sobbing  child  to  her  breast,  and 
firmly  held  it  there  with  her  beautiful  white  hand. 
"Good-bye,"  she  said,  with  the  dignity  and  calmness  of 
an  offended  queen.  "Good-bye — forever!" 

He  turned  and  moved  away.  A  few  paces  from  her, 
before  the  trees  had  obscured  her  from  his  sight,  he 
looked  back  and  saw  her  with  Lionel  in  her  arms.  Her 
exquisite  face  was  pressed  consolingly  against  the  golden 
head.  She  was  whispering  to  the  child  and  rocking 
back  and  forth,  as  if  he  were  a  babe  on  her  breast. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

his  left,  farther  away  from  the  town, 
jand  about  a  mile  distant,  stood  a  small 
i  mountain.  Dark-red  as  to  soil,  bristling 
'  with  sandstone  bowlders,  sparcely  grown 
with  pines  and  thorny  locust-trees,  and 
gashed  by  rain- washed  gullies,  it  rose 
majestically  against  the  cloud  -  flecked  blue  of  infinite 
space  beyond. 

Hardly  knowing  why  he  did  so,  Gait  turned  his  face 
toward  it  and  strode  on,  vaguely  conscious  that  he  was 
battling  against  the  soul-calamity  which  had  beset  him 
as  a  dumb  beast  might  fight  for  its  physical  life.  Around 
the  sloping  base  of  the  mountain  lay  old  worn-out  fields, 
now  given  over  to  the  riotous  possession  of  anything 
which  would  take  root  upon  its  soil.  There  was  no  path 
leading  to  the  seldom  visited  elevation,  but  with  his 
eyes  constantly  on  the  solitary  finger  of  earth  he  climbed 
over  the  old  rail-fence  encompassing  the  land,  and  forged 
his  way  through  the  dense  undergrowth,  now  ploughing 
his  feet  through  a  matting  of  heather  and  dewberry- 
vines,  or  plunging  unexpectedly  into  some  weed-hidden 
spring  or  fresh-water  stream.  Between  him  and  the 
mountain  ran  a  creek,  and  he  suddenly  found  himself  at 
a  spot  on  the  banks  of  it,  where,  as  a  boy,  home  on  his 
vacations,  he  used  to  fish.  But  it  had  changed,  he  told 
himself,  as  everything  else  had  changed — he  was  a  man 
now,  but  such  a  man! 

Crossing  the  creek  on  a  foot-log  formed  from  the  fallen 

337 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

corpse  of  a  giant  oak  he  had  once  known,  he  walked  on 
ward.  The  land  was  now  sloping  sharply  upward,  and 
his  way  was  less  impeded.  The  air  was  becoming  more 
rarefied,  the  view  on  either  side  and  behind  him  was  un 
folding  more  rapidly  in  the  hazy  distance.  The  sun, 
which  had  been  beating  on  him  mercilessly,  was  now  be 
hind  a  drifting  cloud,  and  the  cool  breezes  of  a  higher 
altitude  fanned  his  flushed  face. 

Finally  he  reached  a  flat,  jutting  bowlder  near  the  top, 
and,  exhausted  from  the  inconsiderate  tax  on  his  muscles, 
he  sank  down  panting.  There  lay  old  Stafford  nearest 
at  hand,  and  beyond  stretched  out  the  new  town  under 
its  web  of  smoke,  the  besmudged  handwriting  of  mer 
cantile  progress.  His  brain  had  fostered  the  idea,  and 
made  it  practicable.  Reaching  out  southward,  in  the 
sunlight,  like  two  threads  of  silver,  lay  the  great  steel 
highway  which  his  foresight  and  ambition  had  brought 
into  existence.  His  fancy  pictured  with  lightning  flashes 
the  growing  villages  and  towns,  as  he  had  seen  them  on 
the  opening  day  when  he,  like  an  emperor  of  a  con 
quered  territory,  had  been  escorted  over  it.  The  mo 
ment  had  given  him  the  thrill  of  gratified  avarice 
and  the  empty  glory  of  conquest,  but  the  eyes  of  the 
eager  throngs  which  had  gazed  upon  him  in  wonder 
and  envy  that  day  saw  nothing  of  the  cancer  which 
even  then  was  eating  into  the  vitals  of  his  higher  nat 
ure.  Then —  But  why  contemplate  it?  The  jugger 
naut  of  relentless  Right  had  ground  him  under  its 
wheels. 

He  locked  his  arms  over  his  knees,  lowered  his  head, 
and  groaned  in  sheer  despair.  If  Dora  had  only  given 
him  a  bare  chance!  But  she  hadn't,  and  now,  loved  as 
woman  never  was  loved  before,  desired  in  spirit  and 
body  as  woman  never  was  desired  by  man,  she  had 
coldly,  firmly  put  him  from  her.  The  sight  of  her  as 
she  sat  holding  his  child  in  her  arms,  and  spurning  him 

338 
-Iff 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

as  was  her  right  to  spurn  him,  would  haunt  him  into 
and  through  the  Eternity  which  had  now  become  such 
a  hopeless  reality. 

Suddenly  raising  his  eyes  to  the  relentless  blue  above, 
he  tried  to  frame  a  prayer. 

"O  God,  have  mercy!"  he  cried.  "Show  me,  a  sin 
ner,  a  way  out  of  the  darkness  of  my  damnation.  Give 
them  to  me,  that  I  may  atone  by  my  conduct  to  them 
throughout  my  life.  Soften  her  heart,  O  God,  and 
open  her  eyes  to  the  depths  of  my  woe!  I  have  suffered, 
I  will  suffer  on  to  the  end,  but  give  me  my  wife  and 
child!" 

Noon  came  and  passed,  but  he  had  no  thought  of 
thirst  or  of  hunger.  He  remained  there  on  the  rock 
and  watched  the  sun  go  down,  and  saw  the  soft  veil  of 
coming  darkness  thicken  over  the  earth.  Now  old 
Stafford  lay  in  darkness,  save  for  the  dazzling  circles  of 
light  where  the  arc-lamps  swung  across  the  streets  and 
were  grouped  like  a  constellation  in  the  square.  He 
waited  till  the  town  clock  had  struck  nine;  then,  still 
without  sense  of  fatigue  or  hunger,  he  went  down,  now 
with  considerable  difficulty,  owing  to  the  darkness  of 
the  incline. 

He  managed  to  reach  his  front  gate  without  meeting 
any  one,  and  was  entering  when  he  saw  the  figure  of  a 
woman  emerge  from  the  veranda  and  come  slowly  down 
the  walk.  Could  it  be  one  of  the  servants?  he  asked 
himself.  But  his  answer  was  the  recognition  of  the  wom 
an  herself.  It  was  Mrs.  Barry.  She  paused,  unable,  it 
seemed,  to  formulate  what  she  had  to  say,  so  sudden 
was  the  meeting,  and  his  heart  sank  lower,  as  the  thought 
came  to  him  that  something  might  have  happened  to 
Dora  or  the  child. 

"  I  came  to  see  you,"  she  began,  pushing  back  the 
bonnet  which  had  partially  obscured  her  face.  "Your 
servants  told  me  they  didn't  know  where  you  were." 

339 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

"You  wanted  to  see  me?"  he  gasped.  "Has  any 
thing  gone  wrong?" 

"  No,  it  is  not  that,"  the  woman  said,  leading  the  way 
toward  a  clump  of  cedars  on  the  grass,  as  if  from  the 
sensitive  fear  of  meeting  some  one  on  the  walk.  "  My 
daughter  and  the  child  came  home  at  noon.  I  saw  from 
her  looks  that  she  was  troubled  over  something,  and 
that  Lionel  had  been  crying,  from  the  marks  on  his 
face;  but  I  did  not  question  either  of  them.  Ail  this 
afternoon  she  did  not  speak  of  you,  but  to-night,  after 
she  had  put  the  boy  to  sleep,  she  came  into  my  room 
and  sat  down  near  me.  I  knew  she  was  in  awful  strug 
gle  over  something.  She  began  telling  me,  in  a  slow, 
halting  voice,  of  all  that  you  had  said.  She  is  my  only 
child,  Kenneth  Gait,  but  I  don't  understand  her  any 
better  than  if  she  were  not  of  my  flesh  and  blood.  I 
never  fully  understood  her  father.  I  suppose  no  prac 
tical-minded  person  can  comprehend  those  who  live  in 
the  imagination,  surrounded  by  ideals  which  become 
real  to  them.  She  began  to  go  over  the  whole  history 
of  her  trouble  from  the  very  first,  and  she  never  left  out 
a  single  detail.  She  summed  it  all  up  in  the  most 
marvellous  manner.  My  heart  ached  for  her  as  it  never 
had  before.  She  wants  to  do  right,  she  says,  and  she 
knows  what  would  be  right  and  self-sacrificing  on  her 
part,  but  she  says  she  simply  can't  conquer  the  offended 
pride  within  her.  She  has  had  trouble  and  we  are  poor, 
but  there  never  was  born  a  queen  with  more  pride  of 
womanhood." 

"Yes,  yes,"  Gait  gasped,  as  he  stared  at  her.  "I 
know;  I  know." 

"Then  I  tried  to  advise  her,"  Mrs.  Barry  went  on. 
"At  first  it  was  like  talking  to  a  person  born  deaf,  but 
finally  she  began  to  listen,  for,  as  a  last  resort,  I  was 
holding  up  the  child's  interests.  I  spoke  of  what  a 
glorious  thing  a  trip  to  Paris  would  be — to  stay  there 

340 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

as  long  as  we  liked,  and  to  be  able  to  come  home  again, 
for  we  do  love  it  here,  and  I  am  sure  the  people  would 
be  kind  in  their  view  of  it.  I  reminded  her  that  once, 
when  we  asked  Lionel  what  he  had  rather  have  than 
anything  on  earth,  he  had  said  that,  first,  he  wanted  a 
father  like  other  children,  and,  next,  that  he  wanted  to 
be  where  he  could  have  playmates." 

"Oh,  I  can't  bear  it,  Mrs.  Barry!"  Gait  groaned.  "  If 
there  is  anything  under  high  heaven  I  could  do  to 
rectify  my  mistake,  I'd  give  my  life  to  do  it." 

"  I  know  it,  Kenneth,  and  I  am  going  to  say  some 
thing  that  may  surprise  you.  I  don't  harbor  any  ill- 
feeling  toward  you.  I  simply  can't.  Living  so  close 
with  Dora  has  lifted  me  up  in  spiritual  things.  I  can't 
have  anything  but  pity  for  the  consequences  of  sin  and 
temptation.  What  you  did  wasn't  a  proof  that  you 
didn't  love  my  child.  It  only  proved  that  the  tempta 
tion  you  had,  at  the  moment  of  your  fall,  kept  you  from 
realizing  what  you  would  lose.  That's  all.  I  believe 
you  loved  her  then,  that  you  did  even  after  you  left  her, 
and  I  am  sure  that  you  do  now  more  than  ever;  in  fact, 
I  made  that  plain  to  her.  I  think  she  sees  it,  too,  in  her 
way;  but  it  doesn't  help  her  overcome  her  pride.  I  am 
sorry  for  her — more  so  than  I  ever  imagined  I  could  be 
for  a  woman  under  any  trial.  She  is  pulled  many  ways 
by  duty,  and  she  is  fairly  in  an  agony,  undecided  as 
to—" 

"Undecided?  Did  you  say  that?"  Gait  leaned  for 
ward  eagerly,  his  lips  quivering,  as  he  waited  breath 
lessly. 

"Yes,  she  is  undecided.  You  see,  things  have  come 
to  such  a  focus  that  we  must  leave  here.  She  has  just 
learned  that  Fred  Walton  has  been  falsely  accused  by 
many  persons,  and  she  always  liked  him.  He  is  com 
ing  back  home,  and  she  wants  to  clear  his  name,  and 
yet  she  shrinks  from  having  her  private  affairs  brought 

34i 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

in  public  view  again.  She  said,  herself,  that  if  she  could 
get  her  own  consent  to  become  your  wife,  then  every 
body  would  understand  the  truth,  and  not  blame  him. 
Then  there  is  the  child — 

"Yes,  Lionel!"  Gait  panted.  "We  must  save  him, 
and  we  can — we  can,  if  Dora  could  only — 

"She  knows  that  full  well,"  the  woman  said,  passing 
her  gaunt  hand  over  her  withered  mouth  and  swallow 
ing  the  rising  lump  in  her  throat.  "If  you  only  could 
have — have  heard  what  I  did  to-night  it  would  have 
wrung  tears  from  your  eyes.  Lionel  had  waked  up,  and 
she  had  to  go  to  him.  He  couldn't  sleep  for  what  was 
on  his  mind.  Kenneth  Gait,  that  little  angel  was  simply 
begging  his  mother  not  to  let  you  go  away — think  of  it, 
actually  pleading  for  you!  He  had  heard  you  say  you 
were  going,  and,  in  some  way,  he  fancied  Dora  could  per 
suade  you  to  stay.  He  cried  till  his  little  pillow  was  wet. 
He  told  her  he  loved  you,  that  you  had  said  he  was 
your  little  boy,  and  that  he  wanted  to  be  with  you  al 
ways.  I  heard  her  pleading  with  him  and  arguing,  but 
through  it  all  his  little  voice  would  continue  to  cry  out 
that  it  should  not  be  so — that  he  wanted  you,  and  that 
you  wanted  him" 

"God  bless  him!"  burst  from  the  lips  of  the  bowed 
man. 

"Finally  he  dropped  to  sleep,"  Mrs.  Barry  went  on, 
"and  slept,  still  sobbing,  as  children  do  when  wrought 
up  high,  and  she  left  him  and  came  again  to  me.  Poor 
thing!  She  was  simply  undone — conquered!  She  put 
her  head  in  my  lap  and  burst  out  crying.  She  sobbed 
and  sobbed  a  long  time,  and  then  I  asked  her  if  she 
would  let  me  manage  it.  She  knew  what  I  meant — 
exactly  what  I  meant,  for  she  became  like  a  lump  of 
clay  in  my  lap.  For  a  long  time  she  lay  like  that,  hard 
ly  breathing.  Then  I  told  her  of  what  a  wonderful  in 
fluence  she  had  been  to  me  in  opening  my  eyes,  old  as 

342 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

I  am,  to  the  beauty  of  a  higher,  spiritual  life,  and  that 
in  holding  back,  as  she  was  now  doing,  and  refusing  to 
pardon  a  repentant  man,  even  when  the  happiness  of 
her  own  child  was  at  stake,  she  was  going  backward 
instead  of  forward.  She  seemed  to  realize  it.  She  sat 
up  straight,  and  the  old  light  of  sweetness  and  gentle 
ness  seemed  to  dawn  in  her  face.  'I'll  simply  put 
myself  in  your  hands,  mother,'  she  said  —  'in  your 
hands!' 

"  I  broke  down  and  cried  in  pure  joy,  Kenneth  Gait. 
Then  what  do  you  think?  I  heard  her  go  back  to  her 
room,  and  knew  that  the  child  had  waked.  I  am  not 
sure;  but  I  think  she  waked  him  purposely,  for  she  never 
could  bear  to  have  him  go  to  sleep  unhappy.  I  heard 
her  telling  him  about  the  beauty  of  Paris — about  its 
streets,  its  boulevards,  and  its  parks;  its  buildings;  its 
statuary  and  pictures,  and  of  the  pretty  children  who 
were  to  be  his  friends.  She  laughed  like  a  happy  child — 
they  were  always  like  two  children,  anyway — when  she 
told  him  about  crossing  the  ocean  in  a  great  ship,  and 
of  the  high  waves,  deep  water,  and  big  fish.  But  he 
stopped  her  with  a  question.  What  do  you  think  it 
was,  Kenneth  ?  He  wanted  to  know  if  you  were  going  ? 
I  knew  she  hesitated,  her  pride  closing  her  lips,  even 
there  alone  with  her  child.  She  wouldn't  answer  his 
question.  Then  I  heard  Lionel  say  plainly,  and  there 
was  a  strange  sort  of  stubborness  in  his  little  voice: 
'Well,  I  don't  want  to  go;  he  would  not  want  me  to 
leave  him;  he  said  so  once;  he  said  he  would  never 
leave  me,  and  I  wasn't  to  leave  him.  Is  he  going, 
mother?'  he  kept  asking. 

"Then  I  heard  her  say,  'Yes,  darling,  he  is  going — 
now  you  can  sleep!'" 

"She  said  that?  Did  she  say  that?"  Gait  cried,  his 
whole  despondent  being  aflame. 

"Yes;   it  is  settled,  Kenneth.     Perhaps,  in  time,  you 

*s  343 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

and  she  will  be  thoroughly  happy  together.  I  don't 
know,  but  I  hope  so." 

"Thank  God!"  Gait  said,  fervently,  and,  taking  the 
old  woman's  hand,  he  wrung  it  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight. 
"  I  only  wanted  a  chance,  Mrs.  Barry.  I  shall  devote 
my  life  to  all  of  you,  and  we  can  be  happy — gloriously 
happy  over  there.  She  shall  be  our  queen,  and  Lionel 
our  little  prince.  I'll  have  this  old  house  kept  in  order, 
and  some  day  we'll  come  back  to  it." 

"Then  here  is  my  plan,"  Mrs.  Barry  said.  "Meet  us 
in  Atlanta  the  day  after  to-morrow,  and  we  shall  be 
ready  to  sail.  I'll  let  you  know  what  hotel  we  go  to. 
The  news  will  come  back  from  there,  but  we  sha'n't  be 
here  during  the  reception  of  it.  Now,  I'm  glad,  for  your 
sake  as  well  as  ours,  that  it  is  all  going  to  turn  out  well. 
I  want  to  see  you  happy.  You  have  suffered  enough, 
and  so  has  she.  As  for  me,  I  never  was  so  happy  in  my 
life.  I  want  to  go  to  Paris  for  a  while.  My  husband  is 
buried  there,  you  know." 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  after 
the  meeting  of  Dora  and  Kenneth  Gait, 
'  old  Stafford  was  stirred  to  its  outskirts 
'  by  the  return  of  the  most  popular  young 
[man  who  had  ever  lived  in  the  town. 

I  Fred  Walton  got  in  an  hour  or  so  before 

noon. 

He  had  sent  a  telegram  to  his  father  announcing  his 
coming,  but  had  failed  to  mention  the  hour  of  his  arrival, 
and  so  there  was  no  special  conveyance  at  the  station 
to  meet  him,  though  old  Simon,  in  his  Sunday  frock- 
suit  and  a  fresh  collar,  with  a  five-cent  shoe-shine  and 
a  ten-cent  shave  at  the  barber-shop  adjoining  the  bank, 
sat  in  the  counting-room  waiting,  not  sure  whether  his 
son  would  get  in  during  the  morning  or  by  the  after 
noon  train. 

He  was  not  long  kept  in  doubt,  for  the  electric  trolley- 
car  that  whizzed  up  from  the  station  was  fairly  packed 
with  individuals  of  both  sexes  and  ail  classes,  who,  it 
seemed,  had  ridden  up  chiefly  that  they  might  be  among 
the  first  to  pay  tribute  to  their  old  favorite  and  hear 
him  talk. 

It  was  all  joyous  and  reassuring  enough  to  Fred 
at  first,  and  might  have  continued  so  had  the  car  not 
stopped  at  a  crossing  half-way  between  the  station  and 
the  square,  and  taken  on  Wynn  Dealing,  who,  having 
returned  home,  had  been  visiting  a  patient  near  by.  The 
eyes  of  the  two  met.  Fred  colored  high;  but  with  a 

345 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

hard,  grave  countenance  Dealing  simply  turned  to  the 
conductor,  paid  his  fare,  and  sat  down  near  a  window, 
through  which  he  stared  stonily  all  the  way  to  the  square. 

The  heart  of  the  returning  exile  sank  into  a  veritable 
slough  of  despair.  His  admirers,  packed  about  him,  were 
stilled  for  a  moment  by  the  "cut"  he  had  received,  and 
then,  not  being  able  to  interpret  it,  they  valiantly  passed 
it  over,  and  showed  by  their  excessive  cordiality  that  if 
one  of  his  old  companions  had  been  coarse  enough  to 
snub  him  on  that  day  of  all  days,  they  remained  true. 

But  the  light  and  joy  of  it  all  was  blotted  out  for  the 
one  most  concerned.  He  sat  trying  to  answer  the  in 
numerable  questions,  trying  to  return  humorous  sallies 
and  references  to  the  gay  old  days  with  smiles  that  would 
reflect  their  good-will,  but  it  was  a  poor  effort  at  best. 
He  endeavored,  in  a  miserable  maze,  to  recall  the  exact 
words  of  his  father's  hurried  letter  ordering  him  home, 
and  his  spirits  sank  lower  and  lower  as  he  made  the 
effort.  After  all,  he  told  himself,  he  had  misunderstood 
Margaret's  message — the  message  which  had  raised  him 
to  the  very  skies  of  delight.  The  letter,  which  he  had 
read  hundreds  of  times,  was  in  the  pocket  of  his  coat, 
and  he  could  feel  its  now  grim  and  satirical  pressure 
against  his  breast. 

"  She  told  me  she  wanted  to  see  you,"  old  Simon  had 
written,  "  and  for  me  to  write  you  so.  She  said  she  was 
sure  when  you  and  her  got  together  you  and  her  would 
understand  each  other  perfectly.  She  was  powerful  flush 
ed  and  excited,  and  I  could  hardly  make  out  just  what 
she  did  or  did  not  mean.  It  was  the  way  she  acted 
more  than  what  she  actually  said  in  so  many  plain 
words  that  made  me  believe  she  had  concluded  to  let 
bygones  be  bygones.  So,  if  I  was  you,  Fred,  and  still 
thought  she  would  be  a  proper  mate,  why,  I  should  lay 
business  aside  and  make  hay  for  a  while.  The  sun  seems 
shining  up  this  way  for  you  right  now,  and  so,  as  I  say,  I 

346 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

would  come  right  on  before  some  other  cloud  rises. 
Women  are  changeable,  and  she  may  be  no  exception  to 
the  rule.  I  can't  quite  understand  why  she  shut  off 
my  proposition  in  your  behalf  when  I  went  up  to  see  her, 
and  then  come  down  all  in  a  tilt  and  hustle  the  next 
day,  and  did  what  she  did,  and  talked  like  she  did.  I 
am  too  much  of  a  business  man  by  habit,  I  reckon,  to 
encourage  anybody  in  a  deal  that  ain't  fully  closed, 
signed,  sealed;  and  delivered;  so,  you  see,  all  I  can 
say  is  to  come  on  and  work  out  your  own  salva 
tion." 

Now,  sure  that  he  had  made  a  grave  mistake,  and  with 
the  heaviest  of  hearts,  Fred  left  the  car  at  the  post- 
office,  noting  that  Wynn  Bearing,  with  a  hard,  set  face, 
was  striding  across  the  street  to  his  office  with  never 
another  look  in  his  direction. 

"He  is  furious  because  I  have  come  back,"  Fred  said 
to  himself.  "I  promised  him  I'd  stay  away,  and  I 
have  broken  my  word.  General  Sylvester  is  as  much 
against  me  as  ever,  and  so  is  Wynn.  It  is  all  up.  I'll 
never  live  it  down.  These  persons  who  seem  glad  to  see 
me  have  nothing  at  stake,  or  they  would  snub  me  too. 
My  father  has  forgiven  me,  but  that  has  nothing  to  do 
with  Margaret.  After  he  wrote  as  he  did,  I  hoped — 
hoped — well,  I  was  a  fool!  I  hoped  too  much.  I'll  go 
back  West  and  stay  there.  I'll  see  Wynn  Bearing  and 
tell  him  of  my  mistake.  Surely  that  will  justify  me  if 
my — my  presumption  ends  there." 

As  he  neared  the  bank  he  saw  his  father  standing 
in  the  door,  backed  up  by  all  his  clerks.  The  gaunt, 
grizzled  visage  of  the  old  man,  under  its  half -sheepish 
look,  was  lighted  up  as  it  had  never  been  in  his  son's 
memory,  and  the  faces  around  him  were  wreathed  in 
welcoming  smiles,  but  it  was  a  hand  of  lead  that  Fred 
extended,  a  smile  that  was  dead  lay  on  his  handsome 
face. 

347 


Bearing,  to  his  surprise,  on  reaching  his  office  after 
leaving  the  car,  found  Margaret  waiting  for  him.  He 
stared  at  her  almost  fiercely  for  a  moment;  then,  as  she 
avoided  his  eyes  and  was  silent,  he  broke  out: 

"  You  have  come  down  here  to  see  him?" 

"Yes,  brother,"  she  answered,  simply.  "I  want  to 
be  among  the  first  to  welcome  him  home.  He  has  suf 
fered  enough,  and  has  proved  his  genuine  nobility.  I 
can't  explain  everything  just  now,  for  I  have  no  right 
to;  but  you  will  know  all  that  I  know  very,  very  soon." 

"I  know  this,  Madge,"  he  said,  and  he  sat  down  be 
fore  her,  looking  like  a  figure  carved  in  stone,  so  ghastly 
pale  and  rigid  was  he.  "I  know  this:  if  you  pardon  that 
man  for  what  he  has  done,  I'll  never  speak  to  you  again. 
I  can  stand  some  things,  but  I  can't  stand  that.  No 
man  can  marry  my  sister  who  has  stamped  the  very 
heart  out  of  my  life,  as  this  one  has!  Now,  perhaps  you 
understand." 

"  Oh,  brother,  you  mean  that  you  love — 

He  nodded,  and  his  head  sank  to  his  chest. 

"Then  you  must  listen  to  me!"  Margaret  began. 
"  But,  no,  you  will  have  to  wait — I  can't  tell  you  even 
now — I  can't  explain." 

At  this  juncture  there  was  a  step  on  the  floor  of  the 
front  room.  Some  one  was  approaching.  It  was  a 
messenger  boy  with  a  telegram. 

Bearing  took  it  and  tore  it  open.  The  letters  on  the 
yellow  sheet  swam  before  his  eyes,  but  he  read  the 
words : 

Kenneth  and  I  are  married;  now  you  will  understand 
everything.  We  are  all  going  to  New  York,  then  to  Paris 
for  a  while.  With  love  from  mamma,  Lionel,  and  my 
self,  good-bye.  DORA. 

Margaret  had  read  the  telegram  over  her  brother's 
shoulder,  and  with  a  woman's  tact  she  signed  the  boy's 

348 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

book  and  led  him  to  the  outer  door.  She  stood  there 
alone  for  several  minutes,  looking  out  into  the  street. 
There  was  no  sound  in  the  office.  She  waited  ten  min 
utes,  and  then,  with  a  tear  of  sympathy  in  her  eye,  she 
went  back  to  her  brother  and  put  her  arms  about  his 
bowed  form. 

As  soon  as  was  practicable,  Fred  led  his  father  away 
from  the  clerks  back  to  the  old  man's  office. 

"  Wynn  Bearing  refused  to  speak  to  me  on  the  car  as 
we  came  up,"  he  said.  "Father,  I  am  afraid  I  mis 
understood  your  letter,  and  have  made  an  awful  fool  of 
myself  by  coming.  He  will  think,  and  his  sister  will 
think — "  But  Fred  could  go  no  further.  He  sank  into 
a  seat  near  the  desk,  and  the  banker  slowly  lowered  him 
self  into  his  revolving  chair. 

"  You  say  Wynn— you  say  her  brother  wouldn't 
speak  to  you,"  he  faltered.  "Now,  I  wonder  if — I — I 
wonder —  You  see,  I  hardly  knew  what  to  think  when 
she  popped  in  here  like  she  did  that  day.  What  she  said 
was  all  so  jumbled  and  roundabout  that,  as  I  wrote 
you,  it  was  more  the  way  she  acted  that  made  me  draw 
my  conclusions  than  her  exact  words  on  any  direct 
line." 

"Well,  how  did  she  act?"  Fred  inquired,  despondently. 

"Why,  if  you  will  know — "  old  Simon  was  growing 
red  in  the  face.  "  I  had  no  idea  of  telling  it  even  to 
you,  but  the  truth  is  she  up  and  kissed  me — so  she  did! 
She  gave  me  a  smack  right  on  the  cheek!" 

"She  kissed  you?" 

"That's  what  she  did,  by  gum!  And  Toby  come  in 
just  in  time  to  make  her  let  go  of  my  neck.  So,  you  see, 
after  I  thought  it  all  over,  why,  I  thought  that  maybe 
she  regarded  me  as  being  a  kin  to  her  in  some  shape  or 
other,  and  meant  that  as  a  sort  o'  hint  of  what  she  was 
willing  to  do." 

349 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

At  this  moment  a  voice  was  heard  in  the  corridor.  It 
was  Wynn  Bearing's,  and  he  was  asking  for  Fred. 

"  I  wonder  if  he's  come  here  to  pick  a  row,"  old  Simon 
asked,  as  his  startled  eyes  bore  down  on  the  face  of  his 
son.  "  If  he  has,  I  reckon  we  can  accommodate  him.  I 
ain't  no  fighter,  but  you  are  my  own  flesh  and  blood, 
and  considering  the  time  you've  been  away,  and  what 
you  have  accomplished,  he  hain't  treated  you  right. 
Toby" — raising  his  voice  and  going  to  the  door  and 
looking  out — "show  that  fellow  back  here.  Nobody 
ain't  hiding  in  this  shebang,  I  am  here  to  say,  and  if 
folks  ain't  satisfied  all  round — clean  all  round — why — 

But  Wynn  Bearing  was  brushing  past  the  old  man 
through  the  narrow  doorway,  his  face  pale,  his  hand 
extended  to  Fred. 

"  I  have  done  you  a  great  wrong,  old  man,"  he  said, 
in  a  shaking  voice,  "  and  I  have  come  to  beg  your  par 
don." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  Wynn,"  Fred  gasped,  in  sur 
prise.  "  I  am  sure  you  have  treated  me  no  worse  than 
I  deserve." 

"Oh  yes,  I  have,  Fred.  I  have  worked  against  you 
ever  since  you  left,  and  I  now  find  that  you  are  whollv 
innocent  of  what  I  accused  you  of.  Let  me  talk  it  over 
with  your  father.  Margaret  is  waiting  at  my  office  to 
see  you.  I  promised  I'd  send  you  to  her." 

As  if  in  a  dream,  Fred  hastened  out  of  the  bank  and 
went  down  to  Bearing's  office.  No  one  was  in  the  front, 
but  he  found  Margaret  in  the  back  room  standing  at  a 
window,  looking  out.  She  turned  as  he  entered  and  gave 
him  both  her  hands. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad — so  glad!"  she  cried,  and  he  saw 
tears  on  her  lashes,  and  the  handkerchief  she  held  in  one 
of  her  hands  was  damp.  "  Oh,  Fred,  we  have  all  treated 
you  so  badly,  so  cruelly,  so  unjustly,  when  you  were 
striving  so  hard!  A  great  mistake  was  made.  If  I  had 

350 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

known  what  I  now  know  when  we  met  in  New  York, 
I  would  never  have  treated  you  as  I  did.  You  were 
thinking  of  one  thing  and  I  of  another." 

"I  don't  understand,"  he  said,  groping  for  her  mean 
ing,  his  big,  honest  eyes  dilating. 

"And  I  can't  explain,"  she  said.  "It  really  doesn't 
matter,  anyway.  I  don't  want  even  to  think  about  it — 
at  least  to-day,  when  I  am  so  happy.  But  I  want  you 
to  know  one  thing :  you  see,  Dora  Barry  showed  me  the 
letter  you  wrote  her,  and  I  want  you  to  know  that  I 
love  you.  I  have  loved  you  every  day,  every  minute, 
since  you  left." 

"  You  love  me — you  really  care  for  me  ?"  he  said,  deep 
in  his  throat. 

"Yes;  but  come  walk  home  with  me,  dear,"  she  said. 
"  I  want  you  all  to  myself.  I  shall  never  get  my  own 
forgiveness  for  allowing  myself  to  misjudge  you  as  I 
did.  Let's  not  talk  about  it,  but  come  on.  Wynn  may 
be  back  in  a  moment,  and  I  don't  want  any  explanations 
now,  anyway.  I  want  you  wholly  to  myself." 

As  they  walked  down  the  quiet  street  side  by  side  he 
tried  to  speak,  but  the  happiness  within  him  had  risen 
to  a  storm,  and  he  could  only  stare  at  her  in  silent  won 
der,  as  if  doubting  his  own  good-fortune. 


CONCLUSION 


'NE  of  the  great  ocean  bound  steamships 
was  ready  for  sailing  from  the  New 
York  harbor.  On  the  deck,  near  the 
stern,  somewhat  removed  from  the 
others  and  leaning  against  the  railing, 
stood  a  man  and  a  child  and  a  young 
woman  so  beautiful  and  so  richly  clad  that  the  eyes  of 
many  of  the  passengers  and  their  friends,  who  had 
massed  themselves  on  the  pier  below,  were  fixed  upon 
her  admiringly. 

"  It  is  going  to  be  a  glorious  voyage,  darling,"  Ken 
neth  Gait  said,  as  he  stroked  the  golden  hair  of  the  child. 
"  The  bay  is  as  smooth  as  glass.  Look  how  the  people 
are  staring  at  you!  You  cannot  dream  how  beautiful 
you  are.  Are  you  happy,  Dora?" 

She  looked  down  at  the  water,  put  her  hand  against 
the  cheek  of  the  child,  and  smiled,  a  far-off  look  in  her 
eyes.  "Think,  oh,  think  of  what  it  means  to  him!" 

Just  then  Mrs.  Barry  came  from  the  luxurious  suite 
of  state-rooms  Gait  had  secured. 

"Some  one  has  sent  a  great  bunch  of  flowers,"  she 
said  to  her  daughter.  "They  were  addressed  to  you. 
I  asked  the  florist's  man  who  sent  them.  He  said  he 
didn't  know,  but  that  it  was  a  telegraphic  order  from 
somewhere.  Go  see  them;  they  are  simply  beautiful. 
They  perfume  the  whole  place." 

Leaving  the  three  together,  Dora  went  to  the  suite  of 
rooms.  In  the  one  reserved  for  her,  on  a  table,  she 

352 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  KENNETH  GALT 

found  a  great  mass  of  damp,  fresh  roses.  The  card  ac 
companying  the  gift  had  slipped  down  between  the 
stems.  She  drew  it  out  and  read : 

"Bon  voyage!" 

That  was  all.  She  sat  down  at  the  table,  gathered  a 
bunch  of  the  flowers  in  her  hands,  and  buried  her  flushed 
face  in  them. 

"  Oh !"  she  cried,  and  then  she  burst  into  tears.  "  Bon 
voyage !  bon  voyage !  From  you — dear,  dear,  dear  Wynn ! 
I  know.  I  understand.  I  have  known  and  understood 
for  years.  I  shall  know  and  understand — always!" 

The  signal  for  leaving  had  sounded.  She  felt  the 
ponderous  throb  of  the  ship  under  her.  She  dried  her 
eyes  and  walked  out  on  the  deck.  Her  husband  came 
to  meet  her.  He  took  her  arm,  and  they  leaned  over 
the  railing  and  looked  down  into  the  multitude  of  wav 
ing  hats  and  handkerchiefs. 

"Who  sent  the  flowers,  darling?"  Gait  asked. 

"  There  was  no  name  attached,"  she  answered.  "  Look, 
Kenneth!  Lionel  is  trying  to  climb  the  railing — don't 
let  him!" 

Gait  hurried  away  to  do  her  bidding,  and  she  gazed 
down  into  the  water,  which  was  being  churned  into 
white  foam. 

"Bon  voyage!"  she  said,  bitterly.     "Bon  voyage!" 


THE    END 


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